All of Space and Time: A Collection of Stories
by Twilight Phantom Dragon
Summary: We flourish, we wither, and then we die. Everything ends. But stories are different. Stories live on. They take our lives and press them into the walls of eternity. With stories, we are made immortal. We are remembered. A collection of my Doctor Who one-shots and drabbles that vary in character, pairing, genre, and rating.
1. Rooftop Reflections

**A/N:** Hello! This collection will serve as a repository for all my Doctor Who one-shots. They'll vary in characters, pairings, ratings, etc. though you can expect a lot of Rose and Doctor/Rose and Donna. Every chapter will start with a heading like this, so you can check it out and decide if it's something you'd be interested in reading. Allons-y!

**Characters/Pairings:** Tentoo/Rose

**Summary: **He finds her on the roof. For challenge 10 at then_theres_us over at livejournal.

**Rating:** T **  
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**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

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**Rooftop Reflections**

It's one of those quiet, fuzzy mornings when all he wants to do is cuddle and fall back into the bliss of sleep. Or, even better, fall into her arms. He reaches out, pawing blindly at the other side of the bed for her warmth.

She's not there.

The Doctor's eyes shoot open. He's met with rumpled covers, residual warmth still radiating from the blankets, but no Rose. He frowns and peers around the empty room.

"Rose?" When there's no response, he rises, pulls on pants, and shuffles out the room. The living room is just as quiet as her – _their_ – bedroom. The kitchen and bathroom equally so. There aren't many places she can be in the small flat and she's not in any of them.

Fear seizes him. What if she's been abducted? Or kidnapped? What if she's lying on cold steel somewhere, alone, with aliens wandering about?

Or, and this is the one that scares him the most because the rest they can fight through together like always, what if she's left? Decided the last week has been one huge mistake and run off to somewhere else.

She wouldn't leave without a note. Right? That's not Rose. She doesn't run away because she's too scared to face things. That was him, the man always running from his past, from the consequences, from his feelings. Not anymore. Well, not anymore if he could help it. But if she's left without a word, maybe he doesn't know her as well as he once did.

Maybe he should do some poking around first. Kidnappers would've left traces or perhaps the neighbors heard something. Resolved with this plan of action, the Doctor returns to their bedroom, eyes determinedly avoiding the bed in case she did leave and those memories are the last ones he'll ever have of her. He throws on some trousers and a jumper, ties up his trainers, and leaves the flat.

First stop – Mrs. Peabody, residential queen of gossip and the only neighbor with lights on at this early hour.

He knocks and then smiles when she opens the door. "'Ello, you haven't seen Rose, have you?"

She returns his smile with a kindly one of her own. "I reckon she'll be on the roof again. Poor thing used to go up there all the time. Hasn't since you came back with her though." She eyes him appreciatively then.

The Doctor thanks her and then charges up the stairs, heart thumping wildly. He slows when he reaches the top. What would he do if she wasn't there? Or if she went up there to think about how to leave him? Or –

His thoughts freeze when he steps out into the chilly air. Rose is there, arms curled around her knees, dressed in one of his oversized red jumpers. That's a good sign, right? You don't dress in the clothes of someone you're going to leave. Right? He steps out on to the rooftop and pads slowly across to her.

"Rose?"

She jumps, startled from her thoughts, and looks up at him. Her brow furrows. "Doctor? What're you doing up here?"

The Doctor gives her an easy smile despite his heart hammering away in his chest. It's the beach all over again and he's just as scared of her answer here as he was there. "Could ask you the same. Can I –" He gestures down and she nods. He takes a seat by her, nearly touching but not quite there.

They're quiet for a moment. She's looking out at the waking city, at the cars trundling by, the birds flying low, the people just beginning to leave their homes. He's got his head set straight, but his eyes are running over her, cataloguing each detail. The way her bare toes are curling inwards, the way her fingers tap against her legs, the way her hair threatens to escape from her messy bun, the way her shoulders tense against every breeze.

"I asked first."

"Lookin' for you." He answers. He wants nothing more than to put an arm around Rose's shoulders and pull her close, to warm her from the chill. And then to take her down to bed. But he doesn't know if that's okay right now, so he just keeps his arms tightly to his sides, fists clenching and unclenching.

"I come here to think." Rose pauses, takes a breath. He prepares himself for her apologies, her final good-byes, her dismissals. Reminds himself that it'll be okay, that if it's what she wants then he'll be okay, that it won't kill him. Except it really would. No ocean to walk into here but there's the roof's edge and it'll look inviting any second. No, no he'll be strong. He'll be valiant and oh screw it, he knows he'll lose it if she says good-bye.

"When I was alone, I came here all the time. Sometimes I'd look into the sky and imagine that he, you, would come back." Oh, that's what she wants. The other him, the Time Lord him. Of course. His shoulders droop. He doesn't want to listen anymore, but he can't bring himself to stand either. "But mostly it was my place to think. Still is. An' this, well 's a lot to take in."

"Do you want him too?" He doesn't want to know the answer, but he does.

Rose blinks and turns to face him fully for the first time that morning. "What?"

His eyes remain on the buildings ahead. He can't look at her. Can't look at her say yes. Can't imagine her saying no. "Do you want him to come back now?" He impresses himself with the clipped tone of his words, the control that hides the turmoil inside.

"No." Such a short word, but it sends his heart sailing into the sky. He peers at her from the corners of his eyes. "Well," and here she casts her eyes up to the sky briefly before returning to his face, "You're both the Doctor and I'll always love you both. An' I want both of you to be okay. To be happy. Do you think he is?"

The Doctor knows he isn't. Knows that he had to lose Donna and that likely the Time Lord Doctor is all alone now. All of space and time, but no one to share it with. Even in this human body, confined to one time and one place, this Doctor knows he's luckier.

"He'll be okay." It's all he can manage without entirely lying or saying too much and hurting her. He hopes it's enough.

Something warm touches his hand. When he glances down, it's her hand, her fingers resting on his skin. He turns his palm and their fingers instantly lace together. Once this contact has been established, the rest of her body follows, leaning into his side. Her face nuzzles into the join between his shoulder and neck.

"I thought you left." He's not sure what compels him to tell the truth, whether it's the lie he just told or it's just some silly search for reassurance.

"'M never leavin' you." She laughs softly, her breath tickling his neck. "You seem to keep forgettin' that."

"I know. I just –" He cuts off, waves their joined hands in the air.

"I was plannin' on coming back before you woke up. Just lost track of time up here, that's all. Sorry."

The Doctor nods. "'M not leavin' you either. Ever. You're stuck with me. Like a Remorand to a Sicasin except without any of the parasitism involved. Or teeth, no teeth at all, wellllll not their kind of teeth, I liked that thing you did last night. With your teeth. That was nice."

Her lips press into his neck and he goes still, his babbling cutting off. "Like this." She nips at the skin there, rolls it gently between her teeth and tongue, then pulls back, only to lick at the spot. "Or this." Her bite is firmer this time, her tongue even more soothing as it traces the mark. He lets out a small moan.

Rose draws back, smirking. "C'mon then." He blinks slowly. "There's still time before we need to leave bed."

He grins and lets her pull him up to go downstairs.


	2. Dead Hearts are Everywhere

**A/N:** I forgot to mention this last time, but if you have any prompts/requests, let me know and I'll see what I can do. The inspiration and title for this one-shot came from the song _Dead Hearts _by Stars.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **War AU. He is the Oncoming Storm. She is the Bad Wolf. They meet on the battlefield and they dance.

**Rating:** Everyone

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

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**Dead Hearts are Everywhere**

He doesn't want to be a soldier. He prefers healing and fixing to fighting and destroying. It's why the camp calls him the Doctor. He serves as their medic and he's brilliant at it. So long as you're found alive, the Doctor will be able to patch you up. They call him a miracle worker, but he scoffs at that. It's just science. No miracles whatsoever.

Sometimes, however, he needs to fight. Their army is short on warriors and he's just as good at killing as he is at healing. Maybe even better, they whisper but not around him. They know how he feels about it.

On the battleground, he's not the Doctor. He's the Oncoming Storm and his enemies tremble. He roars through like a hurricane, a force of nature with his sword, an Achilles of the present day, and leaves devastation in his wake. And then when it's all over, he runs back to his tent and waits for the patients to roll in. He never looks back at the dead.

Today's skirmish is nearly over and most have retreated by now. It's a stalemate, too many dead on both sides to count as a victory for either. He is about to leave and ready his medical supplies when he spots her surrounded by red.

The famed Bad Wolf with her fierce wolf helmet and a bite far worse than her bark. They say she's like a goddess, a whirlwind of fury on the battlefield, wielding life and death like they are her playthings. They say she might be better than him though the claim is untested so far. She has brought down so many of his comrades, friends, before this and he hers.

It shall be a fight to the death.

Their swords clang and clash and clatter against one another in a deadly dance. Sparks fly. There are parries and ripostes and counters as they weave and shuffle and duck. They're evenly matched until he feints, whirls by her sword in a graceful spin, and slides his sword through her chainmail into soft flesh. For a moment, time freezes around them, the victor and the victim, the Oncoming Storm and the Bad Wolf. Then he wrenches his sword free and watches her crumble.

So much for the goddess bit, he thinks rather smugly though he is also melancholy. Taking lives is nothing to celebrate even if she is their best.

Usually he would depart now, but he is still fascinated by her. The mystery of the Bad Wolf. No one knows her real name, at least on their side. Underneath her mask, who is she? Or was, he supposes. He'll never learn about the person, but a face. He wants to see the face of this goddess of death.

And, he thinks, he cannot allow his fellow soldiers to brutalize her body as they do to all their worst enemies. She's too worthy an opponent for that kind of disrespect. No, he'll simply take her helmet, an honor, and then she'll be just another body on the field. To be reclaimed by her fellow soldiers or to be picked off by the crows. Just another body, another life cut short by this war.

He kneels and lifts the helmet up, revealing blonde tresses. He nearly drops it when he sees her face. "No." He whispers. Can't be, no way, this is just an illusion, a bad dream, a nightmare. It can't be real.

She is still alive and she hears him. Her eyes open and stare at him, through the slit in his helmet, into his brown eyes, into him. "…Doctor?" It is hesitant and uncertain; she has never known the Oncoming Storm until today, but she has known the Doctor for years.

His heart jumps. She's still alive. He can still save her. If he works fast enough… He's never lost a single patient and he's not about to start with her. "Shh, Rose. It's going to be okay." He places her helmet on the ground and pulls his off to set beside hers.

She smiles at him, that tongue-touched smile that used to drive him crazy. Still does, he'd admit, but he's a little too concerned to focus on it right now. "'S nice to see you again. But don't you dare lie to me."

"'M not lying. You're going to be okay. All my patients live. Ask any of them, all alive an' well an' happy."

He cuts through the straps of her armor and then through her chainmail. There's so much red, so much life leaking out of her precious body. But he can save her. He has to. He rips cloth from her under-tunic and presses it against the wound. It soaks through far too fast. He tears more fabric and pushes harder.

Her eyelids are drooping shut. He taps at her nose. "Hey, stay with me, Rose. You can do that, yeah? Just stay with me and I'll do the rest." He wishes he had his medical bag with him, but it's back in the camp. He'll have to carry her back there or maybe... He looks around, notices that Jack is close, looking through bodies for treasure or survivors.

"Jack!" The man looks up, startled.

"Never thought I'd see you hangin' around after a battle, Doctor." Jack squints from where he stands, trying to make out who it is that the Doctor is kneeling by. He hides her helmet, hopes that Jack doesn't ask.

"Get my medical bag." Before Jack can form a question, he pulls his darkest voice, the one he uses when he's saving lives and has zero patience for dalliance, and yells, "Now!" Jack nods and hurries off.

"'S not gonna work, Doctor."

He looks back at her, at her paling face. "Don't say that. I'm the Doctor and I'm not going to let you die. You got that?"

She stays quiet. He presses the cloth against her wound, doing his best to stave the blood flow until Jack returns. "Just stay awake. Do it for me, yeah? Just listen to me. I'll take care of you. You'll be okay. We can leave and be together. Live in the wilderness if we have to until all the fighting stops. You and me, just as it should be."

There is a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

"Shh, there's nothing for you to be sorry for." Her blood's leaving too fast, there's too much of it, and if he peers closer, doesn't delude himself, he knows it's too late. But he refuses to think it. Everyone believes he can work miracles; he'll prove them right. This will be his finest one.

"I promised you I wouldn't fight. But I did."

"I promised too." He reminds her.

Those promises seem so long ago now. Back when the days were full of sunshine and birds and joy, the naïve knowledge that there was something special and eternal there. When they would run through the fields and cities, adventure at every step, love in every kiss, laughter in every breath. Before the war had closed them off, before they had been separated by blood and bodies.

"I didn't want to. But we were losing and Mickey was goin' an' I had to. Or they woulda gotten my mum an' I couldn't let her die."

"Shh, Rose. 'S not your fault."

He glances down at her face and is alarmed to see her eyes have closed. "Rose!" They startle open and then blink blearily at him. "Stay with me! Keep that promise!"

"Didn't promise anythin'." A teasing smirk crosses her face, but it doesn't hide the fear in her eyes. She coughs then, blood coming up.

"Then promise me now. Promise you won't leave. You can't leave. Promise me."

"I love you."

His chest tightens. Somewhere, he can hear feet approaching and someone calling his name, but he ignores it. His eyes stay locked on her, his whole world coalescing into this single moment, into those three words. Last time she said it, he hadn't returned it. He loved her, of course he did, then and now and always, but the words got stuck in the web of his throat and instead he told her "quite right too". Because he was a coward, always running away from words and truth. Now he refuses to run, is determined to heal her because he will not be her killer and love her because he knows nothing else.

"I love you, Rose. I love you. Just stay with me. Jack's here and I have what I need. You just need to keep your eyes open. Do that for me, dammit Rose, please."

Her eyes shut and his heart withers and dies.


	3. Phoenix Rising

**A/N:** I was supposed to be working on a plotty fluffy fic someone sent me a prompt for on tumblr, but instead my muse ran away and wrote this introspective word thing. Now that this is out of my system (and I'm quite pleased with the result), hopefully I can finish the longer fic.

**Characters/Pairings:** Rose Tyler, some Doctor/Rose

**Summary: **She is Bad Wolf and the universe is hers.

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

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**Phoenix Rising**

Her blood boils with power, with space and time and everything, with stars and planets and galaxies, with life and death. It is equal parts glorious, terrifying, and exhilarating. It is the universe and it spins within her and it is hers to do with as she wishes.

And to think, once upon a time, she was just a shop girl with no future, just tea and telly and monotonous folding over and over again. It seems so long ago now, a whole different person, but she knows she isn't. Who she is now, this shining brilliant woman with the power to bend the universe and tear apart galaxies, who can see the past the present the future _the whole complicated mess of time streams because it isn't linear, it's messy like children's scribbles but a thousand times more intricate_, she came from that. That dead-end life with a dead-end job and a dead-end future. That was her then and this is her now, grown and fully realized, a flame, a blaze, an inferno.

She is Rose Tyler. She is Bad Wolf. She is Rose Tyler and Bad Wolf, nothing and everything, radiance and rage and love, still so human but bursting with energy, transcending above and beyond.

She sees a planet galaxies away, beautiful and isolated, red grass and orange skies with a domed city. Ships float in the sky and the world, nay the universe, is rocked by this war. She sees the dome shatter, the tower crumble, the grass burn – everything is fire and blood and death. So much death and she can see a lonely blue box spinning away from the destruction, a lone survivor.

She sees her Doctor fall to Daleks, but she will not allow that. She intercedes, steps in before it can happen, dissipates atoms because they are nothing and her Doctor will be – _is_ – safe. She sees the body of her Doctor consumed in energy, sees him emerge with chestnut hair and brown eyes, all bouncy energy and manic smiles. She sees him die a thousand times and live more than that.

She sees a white room, two white rooms actually, identical and parallel but too far from each other. She sees a lonely beach in Norway. Bad Wolf Bay, she names it, and her heart is at once broken over it. Tears glimmer in her eyes and it _hurts _knowing that this will be the stage for a good-bye. _I love you. _And she wants to hear him say it but he's gone before it can happen and she is left with tears.

She sees the night sky and the stars as they blink out of existence. One by one, they vanish and then there's just a deep darkness, darker than anything she's ever seen before, the darkness of nothing and nowhere. She draws away from that, finds a market on a far-off planet where the most important woman in the universe and her Doctor will visit one day, scatters words there as a warning, an omen of the apocalypse to come.

She sees many men, scarves and celery and colorful jackets and pinstripes and bowties, but they are all the Doctor, her Doctor. She sees many women, all the same but different in little ways. A Rose who never met the Doctor wasting away in a shop, a Rose torn apart by monsters on some lonely planet, a Rose in leather carrying a large gun into hell, a Rose shining with the power of the universe, a supernova burning and burning until finally going out. And she sees them – together and apart, hands held, distances maintained, bodies tangled, lines not crossed, two intertwined timelines clinging to one another.

Everything is going by faster now, so fast that it's impossible to sort through all the images, but she can get the sense of them and they burn. There are quiet Sunday mornings in bed, imploding planets, sticky fingers, broken bodies, babies wrapped in blankets, shattered vases, traveling storytellers, sacrifices for good people, cupcakes with ball bearings, colliding stars, whispers of love, bruises and burns and wounds beyond repair, tombstones reading Rose Tyler – it's everything that was, is, could be. She wants to stop the bad and usher in the good, twist time for the better.

She is flying high, bubbling with all this power and she feels like she can fly away forever and lose herself in this everything, spinning without an axis, lost to space and time and it hurts, it hurts so much and why can't it just stop, but then there's an anchor pulling her back to earth, something steady she can grasp on to and hold, a light to guide her home. The flurry is settling, the storm of her mind calming. She drifts back to her body, focuses on the pressure at her lips, the hands holding her arms, the staccato beat of her heart, all those physical sensations that mark her.

Everything leaves her. She should feel empty, bereft of the universe like this, but she isn't. She is still full of love and fury and sadness and every other human emotion and thought – she is still Rose Tyler. Nonetheless, it's too much, this sudden loss, this life, this remembrance of all that is and was and will be, and she falls into welcoming arms and the comfort of forgetting.


	4. Bombardment

**A/N:** Written for wildcard week over at the I Bring Life tumblr. My prompt was dancing and while this was originally pure fluff, plot happened.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **She ran after the alien, cursing her heels for slowing her down and wondering why she'd figured heels would be an advisable option on any trip with the Doctor, even one as seemingly innocuous as a ball.

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

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**Bombardment**

The Doctor hadn't told her where they were going, just told her to put on something fancy and nice, all the while flitting about the console with a nervous energy. Which was how she'd ended up in the wardrobe room sifting through dresses until she came across a deep red one, silky and smooth, with black and gold ornamentation.

Rose smiled at it and quickly changed. A matching pair of black heels followed along with some light make-up. She debated putting her hair up or leaving it down when the Doctor's voice came down, "Roooose! It's time to go."

Well, that made her decision for her.

She hurried back to the console room. "'M here."

The Doctor turned to look at her and froze. She grinned as his eyes ran over every inch of her and back again. "Perfect."

Her cheeks reddened, bringing forth a spirited chuckle from him. Not one to let him get away, she teased, "See you didn't bother with a wardrobe change."

"Oi, nothin' wrong with this." She giggled; he harrumphed and then shot her a grin. "Shall we be off, Lady Rose?"

Another giggle before she accepted his proffered arm and let him lead her outside the TARDIS doors. They had parked in a metallic hallway. Not much to look upon, but sensing that this wasn't their final destination, Rose followed the Doctor without comment. Eventually they reached a large set of double doors flanked by two guards. A quick flash of the psychic paper and they were in.

The ballroom they entered glittered and glowed with the luxuries of the elite and powerful. Gold ornamented the white walls in intricate designs and what wasn't covered in gold was festooned with rich tapestries and paintings. Crystal chandeliers hung from the curved ceiling while massive arched windows revealed the starry darkness outside. Long tables bearing a number of strange foods stood to one side while the center of the room was devoted entirely to dancing. In the corner, a full-scale orchestra played – among them were pianists, cellists, violinists, and several instruments Rose had never seen before.

Among all this beauty, a wide mix of both humans and aliens lingered, danced, ate, and chatted. Small blue aliens with ridged faces and six eyes rushed around between guests, offering bubbly beverages and clearing empty plates from tables.

Rose breathed out. It was like stepping into a fairy tale, one populated with aliens of course but like a Disney ballroom in every other way. "'S beautiful."

"The Tenth Percassian Intergalactic Peace Ball. Held every 10 years to remember the peace treaty at the end of the Percassian War, making this the centennial celebration of the peace treaty. They change the location every time, going between the galaxies that fought. This year, though, it's being held on a space station. Now then."

The Doctor took two flutes of an orange, bubbly drink from a waiter, handing one to Rose. She smiled gratefully and took a sip. A tangy taste, reminiscent of tangerines but not quite like them either, more spicy, filled her mouth.

"Mhm."

He grinned at her satisfied sigh. "Reckon you approve then?"

"Hard to disapprove with a fancy ball."

"Last time was better." A loud voice broke into their conversation. It came from a middle-aged woman with dark skin, round features, and a flowing gown of purple silk. Her curls were arranged artfully around her shoulders. "You weren't cooped up in a space station, you could wander the gardens. Saloosa has the most beautiful gardens." She gave them a quick once-over. "I don't recall seeing either of you there."

"Oh, this is our first time. I'm the Doctor and this is Rose Tyler."

"I am Lady Ballana of the Fraxia."

More guests gathered around them, drawn to Lady Ballana. Introductions flew by and then they were engaged in a lively discussion about the merits of a space station ball versus one on a planet. Rose listened for the most part, offering up words where she could but otherwise content to simply drink in the conversation and gaze around the ballroom. She glanced at the dance floor and pondered the likelihood of the Doctor dancing with her. They had before, but not with this body. Well, there was a first time for everything and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to try getting him out on the floor.

"Lady Ballana."

Rose blinked back to attention within the group to look at the man who'd just arrived. Lady Ballana inclined her head to him.

"Phil."

"Have you heard the news? There's been another drop in stock. Pharnassus Weaponry again. You'll want to sell now before the company goes under."

Lady Ballana shrugged. "I got rid of my shares the first time the company cut back. No use investing in them nowadays."

The Doctor took Rose's arm. "We'll leave 'em to talk business, yeah?"

She nodded in agreement and with polite excuses, the duo left the small group. They wandered the ballroom together, trying out various nibbles including a purple squirmy treat the Doctor assured her wasn't alive, merely vibrating sugar molecules and wasn't that amazing? moving food?, and chatting to some of the other guests.

It was about an hour in when the Doctor gave her a gallant bow and extended a hand, "May I have this dance, Rose Tyler?"

She resisted the immediate urge to grab his hand and tug him to the dance floor (there would be plenty of time for that); instead choosing to put on a cheeky smile. "Thought you weren't much of a dancer, Doctor?"

His eyebrows knit together. "An' I thought you liked my moves. Best moves in the galaxy, these moves."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'd love – what's – " Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a small object hurtling through the air. "Get down!"

She pushed the two of them down to the ground. There was a tearing sound; Rose glanced down at her now ripped gown. Then the world exploded around them.

The Doctor's arms wrapped tightly around her as another explosion rocked the room. He murmured into her ear. "We have to get out of here."

She nodded curtly and then looked around for the doors. Smoke had filled the room and there were various fires around crater holes and piles of demolished furnishings. She didn't look closely at the bodies – or, more accurately, body parts – around those sites, quickly quashing the nausea that built at the smell of charred flesh. The doors themselves were blocked by a horde of people. They were locked, creating a press of frantic, screaming bodies.

Rose turned her eyes from them – there was bound to be an easier exit to get to, maybe a door leading to the kitchens that the servants used. Her eyes focused on a small figure, one of the blue waiters. He had pulled something from his pocket and was drawing a pin from the small object.

"Doctor!"

He had spotted the waiter as well. Pulling her up along with him, they ran for the servant.

"Wait!" The Doctor yelled.

The alien jumped, a small squeak escaping his lips. He lobbed the grenade and then turned tail, escaping through the servant's door. The Doctor paused in his run, sonic screwdriver aimed up at the flying grenade. Meanwhile, Rose, unaware of the Doctor's disappearance from her side, charged after the alien. She slipped through the door, just in time to see him disappearing down a corridor.

She ran after the alien, cursing her heels for slowing her down and wondering why she'd figured heels would be an advisable option on any trip with the Doctor, even one as seemingly innocuous as a ball. After this, she was committing to trainers for life – with the occasional flats for fancier occasions.

The corridor opened out into a grand kitchen, still half-full of food and drinks for guests who would never enjoy them now. Rose had only taken a few steps in she caught sight of the alien rattling the door at the end.

She didn't think, just charged and tackled the small alien. They tumbled and rolled on the ground until he was on top. He hissed in her face, spittle flying, and tugged out a wicked butcher's knife from his belt.

Rose grabbed at his wrist, pushing back to keep the blade away from her face. Her other hand went up to claw at his face. She must've struck something – his eye, maybe? it felt squishy but everything was going so _fast _that she couldn't really be sure – because then the alien was drawing back with a terrifying screech. Rose took the opportunity to push back, simultaneously knocking the knife from his hand and getting him off her.

"Rose!"

She grinned at the Doctor's voice. Two guards followed him, their attention on the waiter, but her attention was solely on the Doctor and vice versa. He knelt by her side, his hand coming up to ghost along her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"There's blood."

"'S not mine."

He nodded and then stood, offering her a hand up. His eyes ran over her body, a thorough examination that made her feel warm, and then turned to the guards with their captive. The waiter wore a pleased smirk despite the swollen, bloody condition of one of his six eyes.

The Doctor approached, all Oncoming Storm now. "What were you trying to do, bombing a peace gathering like – oh! Oh, oh, oh!" The Doctor stopped a foot from the alien. "You want war. You want the nations to lose their heads and panic. But why? What do you have to gain?" He paused, hand going up to his chin as he considered the creature before him. "There's nothin' to gain from hiding it now, is there? You may as well tell us."

The alien returned his considering gaze with silence. The Doctor opened his mouth to try again when a new voice cut him off. Lady Ballana had arrived with a small retinue of guards. "It's alright, Doctor. We shall get the answers out of him on our own."

The Doctor glanced between the prisoner and Lady Ballana. His eyes lit up. "Of course! Pharnassus Weaponry!"

Rose recalled the earlier conversation. "The company was going under."

"And a war would've been just the thing to bring it right back up. You," he looked pointedly at the blue alien, "bomb the place, kill some leaders, and then get out before anyone can figure out what happened. Accusations are thrown, maybe you leave some evidence to frame someone, hmm?" He raised his eyebrows, but the waiter kept his mouth shut. "In any case, everyone's outraged, war breaks out, and Pharnassus Weaponry is back to making millions."

Lady Ballana watched the pair in amusement. She shook her head. "Astounding." Her attention turned to one of the guards at her side. "Send word to apprehend Mr. Pharnassus immediately." He hurried off.

X-X-X

With everything resolved for the time, the Doctor and Rose slipped away, returning to the TARDIS and leaving explanations to Lady Ballana. All the various aches and bruises on her body were throbbing now, insisting that she take a shower and then curl up in bed to sleep for a good twelve hours. Or something.

"Never a dull party with you, Doctor." Rose chuckled, nudging his side and then moving on towards the hallway.

"Rose, wait!"

She turned around.

The Doctor reached over and flicked a switch on the console. Instrumental music much like what had played at the ball filtered through the speakers. He tilted his head. "You never gave me that dance."

Despite her exhaustion, a slow grin spread across her face. "Show me what you've got."

She bounded over. One of his hands went around her waist, drawing her close, while the other took her hand. Her free hand rested on his back. They swayed to the music, taking simple steps along the console room. It was nice, feeling his body pressed up close, his arm around her.

Rose smiled up at him, tongue poking out between her teeth. "This all you got, Doctor?"

"Not even close. Jus' figured you'd need a warm-up before we got to the hard stuff."

"'M always ready."

He laughed. "Right then."

They spun around the room, a flurry of steps and dips and spins accompanied by music and laughter. Heat swelled between them, wavering, the two of them on a tight-rope with the option to go two ways. Forward or back. The air crackled with energy, the universe seemed to revolve around them just as they revolved around the central column.

As the music drew to a close, the Doctor's face lowered to her own. She rose up on tiptoe to meet him halfway, whole body trembling. The first touch was tentative, a slight brushing of lips to test the waters. Then his lips pressed down, full contact. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue until he opened his mouth and let her in. From there, it was all tongue, meeting and learning and exploring, running along each other. His hands wound around her waist to tug her closer while hers lost themselves in his soft hair.

He was the first to draw back, though their faces remained close enough to feel each other's breath. Her eyes opened to see his, darkened and glimmering, staring back at her.

His hand skated along the bruise on her cheek. "Rest now."

She pouted, hoping it would get him to change his mind because rest was really the last thing she wanted right now (okay, no, another trip was but that was beside the point which was that she wanted him).

He only laughed. "Go on. Doctor's orders. I'll still be here when you get up."

Well, if that wasn't working. "I'd sleep better with you there."

The Doctor blinked and considered her. "You'll have to behave."

She nodded, resisting the urge to throw back a flirty comment lest he change his mind. Satisfied with her wordless promise, he took her hand and the two proceeded down the hall to Rose's room.


	5. Icarus Fallen

**A/N:** I've been meaning to write something like this for a long time now. It didn't turn out exactly how I expected it to, but I'm quite pleased with the results.

**Characters/Pairings:** Master/Rose, Ten, some Ten/Rose

**Summary:** AU. What if the Master met Rose first?

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

* * *

**Icarus Fallen**

It's like any other day at Henrik's. She arrives, she folds clothes, she listens to customers gripe and whine and fuss, she points them where they want to go, she takes a lunch break. Rinse and repeat, over and over and over again until she gets to go home. The day is finally winding down and she finishes locking up in the blink of an eye. It's on the walk home when Rose spots him.

He's lying on the ground by a blue police box. He is devilishly handsome despite his ragged appearance. He coughs and it's surely her imagination but she sees golden energy leave him. She stops a foot away from him.

"You alright, mate?"

He looks up, eyes narrowed. They are the eyes of a predator and she almost steps back. Concern for his condition wins out and keeps her there. What could he do anyway?

"I can call the hospital."

His eyes soften somewhat. Danger lurks there (_like he's plotting_), but there's something sweeter and charismatic there too. He stands and brushes dust off his suit.

"No need." His voice is smooth. Like caramel and honey, charm literally seeps from every pore. Immediately she doesn't trust him. Men like him are always liars in the end. However, she can't just ditch him when he was on the ground a second ago.

"You sure?" One last attempt and then she'll go home, she tells herself.

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Considers her for a moment. Those eyes pin her, the eyes of a collector perusing his latest find, seem to see everything around her.

"I do need something."

There are two parts warring within her at this moment. There's the logical one, the smart one, the deep-set instinctual one that screams _run! _It's the one that finds him repulsive, that wants nothing to do with him. It's right. And then there's the curious one, the one bobbing along to an invisible beat, the one that is drawn to him like moths to lights. But what happens when that light is a flame? What happens if she burns? That part isn't interested in the answer, only in his magnetism. She can't tear herself away.

"What?"

"You want to see the world." Rose blinks. How could he possibly know? "You deserve to see the world. I can show it to you."

She flushes. These are lines, the same tired lines the more charming men try, but from him, they sound genuine. It's his voice. It's the voice of a god, a voice that strikes belief and worship into hearts.

Rose refuses to give in entirely even if every cell is screaming to trust him. Lifting her chin, challenging, she says, "Prove it."

A smile curls on to his face. "Step inside." He nods at the blue police box.

"You first."

He peers at her and she's struck with the thought that he might hit her now. That he wants to, wants to smash her head in and leave her bleeding on the pavement.

He doesn't and the feeling vanishes. Eyes blazing, he enters the police box. She steps to the threshold and looks inside. Her world shifts. Nothing will ever be the same.

X-X-X

"'S bigger on the inside." She concludes after circling the box and returning. She shakes her head. "How's it work?"

"You wouldn't understand." He breezes by her, flips levers on the console.

Rose scowls at his back and then looks around at the foreign technology. She recalls news headings – the spaceship hitting Big Ben, the ship on Christmas Day, half a dozen other unexplained phenomena. Only one explanation that makes sense. "You an alien?"

"Time Lord."

She scoffs. "You think you're so high an' mighty."

"I am." She only rolls her eyes. He turns around and draws himself up like royalty. "I'm the Master."

"Master?" Her eyebrows rise. "Oh God, you are too much."

She laughs then, ignoring the glare he shoots at her. There's a tension in his body, a bowstring pulled taut, and she wonders if he's a violent alien. If he's kidnapped her for experiments. The thought dries up her laughter.

"Why pick me up then, oh high an' mighty Master?" She says it with a roll of her eyes, with a bravado she doesn't quite feel.

"I told you; I want to show you the universe."

With that, he flips one final switch on his machine and the whole thing trembles.

X-X-X

Even with the impossibility of the TARDIS, with the inside being bigger on the outside, she didn't believe that the machine could actually travel through space and time. It seemed impossible, like chucking out every rule of physics and linearity and straight-forward human logic, not that she knows much about any of that.

Now she believes.

She stares out at the desolate landscape, at the black sky devoid of stars, at the wasteland laid out in front of her.

"Where are we?" A second and then she adds, "When are we?"

He smiles, a crooked thing that smile. "Clever girl. It's the year 100 trillion, on the planet Malcassairo. And it's the end of the universe."

"Why?" Of all the places a ship like his could go, why choose the end of all things? It seems lonely to her, and sad. So sad. Perhaps that's what he is, under his charming, cutting exterior, a sad alien all alone in his blue police box, looking for something more.

"My ship's broken." Her eyes slide to him, at his tense, coiled body, nearly shaking with rage and hatred. Or maybe she's wrong and he's not sad – he's angry, so angry as if there's a storm brewing inside of him. Or both. "There was a man, a Time Lord like me, named the Doctor and he broke it. Made it so it could travel to your time and here, but nowhere else."

"Why?"

The Master ignores her. "But I'll fix it. I'll make it better than before and then –" He smiles again.

"We can go anywhere? Anywhen?" She'll have to get used to that, the way time isn't so linear, at least not to him and maybe not for her anymore. She could be something more than just an average shop girl. She could see the universe, dance among the stars, the little voice in her head whispers.

He nods. "We can do anything." His arm snakes around her waist, tugging her close. She gasps as he grins. "We'll be king and queen."

She smiles back and then looks out at the wasteland. It's completely still and it unnerves her in its utter loneliness. Nothing should be so empty of life. "An' what about the people? Where are they? There are still people, yeah?"

"Flying away. I set them on a rocket to Utopia before I left here."

Utopia. It's such a nice word. It brings to mind ivory towers and expansive gardens, a paradise with no pain or prejudice. No suffering. It's lovely, but it's a dream too. Rose has watched enough dystopian movies to know that.

"Does it exist?"

He considers her, seemingly surprised by her question, and then chuckles. "No, but it's hope for them. And I've got a different plan. We're going to save them."

There's more to it than that – she's sure of it, it lurks in the gleam of his eye – but she can't figure it out.

X-X-X

On the return trip, he tells her bits of his plan. How he'll pull these survivors into her time, how he'll work on his ship, how he'll need to go undercover as a human to accomplish his plot. Rose knows he hasn't told her everything, but she's willing to help.

Once he's finished, she crosses her arms. "You'll need a new name. An' documentation. Can't move around if you don't properly exist."

"I know."

She imagines gears turning in his head, details clicking into place, a grand labyrinth of clockwork machinery. She wonders where she fits into everything, if the reason he needs her is for her familiarity with human customs or something else.

He snaps his fingers. "Harold Saxon, that'll be it." He fiddles with the controls of the ship and then glances at her. "And your name?"

"Rose Tyler."

"Rose Tyler." He repeats after her. The way he says her name makes her heart beat faster, makes the whole world pulse and shiver.

X-X-X

She falls.

It's hard not to, with his wild stories and his honey-sweet voice and his promises of _adventure_ and his body moving in tandem with hers. It's impossible not to with the way he lifts her into a new world, a better one, one where she is so much more than a shop girl with a dead-end job. He makes her feel worthy and loved and important.

She falls, but she doesn't see what she's falling into. She doesn't see that it's not love and adventure; it's the deep, dark pit where the damned are banished for eternity. She doesn't see until it's too late, until she's at the bottom of that abyss and somehow still falling.

X-X-X

Just after their lovemaking (_fucking_ really but she doesn't call it that), Rose rests her head on his chest. Listens to the double-beat of his hearts, feels the tapping rhythm of his fingers on her back. Always the same rhythm, four beats over and over, tapping away on her skin. It's become her lullaby, this constant presence of _him_. She almost swears that she can hear the rhythm wherever she goes, that it follows her like his love, but that's a foolish fancy.

"I love you." It's the first time she says those words to him.

His fingers pause on her skin, dig in just enough to rip a gasp from her. Seconds stretch into minutes and she thinks he's letting it go unremarked. Maybe Time Lords don't love, not the way humans do. Maybe they just don't know the words.

Then his voice: "I love you too."

Something is off, but she doesn't examine it. She lets her heart soar, lets his words fill her up like a hot-air balloon.

X-X-X

It doesn't take her long to move in with him. He asks and she agrees with a smile. It's only her mum that's the problem. Her mum who doesn't trust him, who thinks he's just another shark looking for young meat.

"An' what'll happen when he drops you like Jimmy?"

Rose looks away. They don't talk about Jimmy much, not at all except when her mum is angry and wants to hurt. And it does, but not as much as it used to because there's the Master and his magnificent ship and his grand plans. With him, she can forget about Jimmy and love that isn't true.

"He's different."

Jackie huffs. "That's what they all say. And then they drop you. Stay here, Rose. Stay with me. Forget about him. He's too old," (unspoken, it's there nonetheless – _too successful, too educated, too high-class_), "to be interested in anythin' else but what's in your knickers anyway."

"No." Everything is wrapped up in that word. Her defiance, her love, her belief in him and what they have.

Her mum's eyes harden. "Well, then go! Go and when he drops you, don't you dare try crawlin' back to me!" Rose storms from the flat as her mum yells at her retreating back. "I won't let you back! I mean it!"

It breaks her heart to leave her mum, but where she's going is better. Rose will prove to her mum that this is real, that they are better, that Jackie is wrong and bitter because she's alone. And then Rose will let her mum back in after a fair amount of begging and apologizing.

It'll all work out in the end. She'll see. Everyone will.

X-X-X

In the early morning, as they lounge in bed together, he whispers his plans in her ear.

People will die. Maybe quite a few. But it's necessary. It's the only way he can bring over the people of the future, the only way they can sit on top of the world, the only way they will see the stars. Together.

She likes that word. Together, it rolls pleasantly off the tongue. She imagines them in his ship, spiraling through the galaxies, close enough to watch stars burn and planets flourish. He paints vivid images of what's out there – sapphire waterfalls, fluorescent grass, evanescent crystals – and she wants to see it all.

She doesn't like the rest. She doesn't like people dying, but he assures her more will live. It's the weight of the world, humanity's future, on his shoulders and it'll be better this way. In the great balance of things, more will live.

She's not sure about that, not sure life works that way with scales and weights. When she questions him, a dark cloud crosses his face, sharp words fly from his mouth, and she never asks again. It's better to stay quiet.

Because even though she's his queen, she's still that girl off the Estate inside and she loves him more than anything and losing him will kill her.

X-X-X

"Marry me."

It's been a month since she met him and now he's kneeling in front of her, holding out a ring. The universe turns in that ring, the promises tangible like they've never been before. A circle, symbol of eternity, of things that never end. Their eternity. She feels like she's flying, like she can reach out and brush the stars with her fingertips.

Rose agrees and he slips it on her finger. It's her crown. She feels impossibly powerful and mighty, so far away from who she once was and she's happy for it. She will never be that girl again.

X-X-X

Rose isn't stupid. She knows that the Master plans to kill the cabinet, but she can't find it within her to care. His vows still ring in her ears, the plans he whispered in her ear in the dark, and she can't summon the compassion she once held. That part of her is curled up deep inside, locked away, probably withered, maybe dead. She tells herself it's long gone and there is only the Master and their (_her_) love now. Their future together.

She listens to the woman go on about how Harold Saxon doesn't exist, how his records are false, how there is something sinister going on here. She knows it all, but she plays the role of the innocent.

She doesn't want the woman to die, but she knows it's the only way.

"Master!"

No use to hide the truth from a dead woman walking. She calls and he comes with his Toclafane. They leave the room to the sound of her screams.

She turns into the Master's arms and kisses him, forgets about the horror of murder and focuses on his hunger. The death-and-ashes taste in her mouth is replaced with his exotic spice flavor and she focuses on that.

Everything else that she is, _was_, falls to the back. A closet of skeletons.

X-X-X

They win.

It's not as sweet as she imagined it would be. There are no stars here, only fire and blood and death. The Master promises that once the missiles are ready, she'll see them. See stars and galaxies, everything, but the price feels too high now.

Rose watches the world burn in pieces, watches the human race thrown under the yoke, watches the future people who aren't even people anymore carry out atrocities against their ancestors. It's sick and wrong.

She's sick and wrong.

Usually she can ignore it, up here in their ivory tower, pretend that things are good and that people aren't dying daily, but sometimes it's too big to escape notice. The first invasion, the northern forests of Canada, Japan, they light up like giant bonfires. She can't hear the screams from the Valiant, but she imagines them, dreams of them. They run through her mind, claw at her skin, echo in her ears like vengeful spirits.

The Master is generally in a good mood. He whizzes about, dances, laughs, fucks her hard. Sometimes she sees darkness flash across his face. Sometimes he gets angry. Sometimes he yells at her, horrible obscene things. Sometimes he hits her and she takes it because there's nothing else she can do.

It's lonely up here too. No one but the Master speaks to her. For good reason, she is their enemy, she is complicit in the world burning. They call her names. Slut and bitch and traitor among other hateful words meant to sting. She wants to explain things to them, but knows there's nothing she can say. So she stays away.

When Rose isn't with the Master, she spends a lot of time staring out the window at the planet below or the sky above. She makes up better worlds and then lets those dreams dissipate, evanescent and forever out of reach.

She misses home. She misses her mum and Mickey and Shireen and humanity. She misses chips drowned in vinegar and creaky playground swings and even that stupid department store job. She misses people who aren't broken, who aren't pressed down by far too much death. She even sorta misses Rose Tyler, the girl who had nothing but who had never harmed anyone, the girl with no future but no bruises and bloodstains.

She stares down at the earth below and wishes that she could be down there again. That the planet wasn't a ravaged husk of what it once was. That everything could be undone and that this was all a dream. That she would wake up back at Powell Estate to a normal life, having never known a madman called the Master.

She is higher than she's ever been before, but she has never felt further from the stars.

X-X-X

The Doctor is not what she expects either. The Master painted a nightmare vision of him, the great destroyer, the oncoming storm, the man who would trap them within two times by messing around with the time ship. He looks nothing like any of those things.

Even angry, his eyes hold warmth. Warmth that the Master's eyes lack. Warmth that, she thinks as she gazes in the mirror at her sallow reflection, her own eyes have lost.

It's so clear he cares and for a brief moment, a traitorous thought rises in her. She wishes that this other Time Lord had come to her instead. The thought is mostly squashed out in that moment, but sometimes, in the dark of night, when the Master is at his worst, she takes it out and rolls it around in her mind, tastes it and treasures it and dares to dream. She dreams of adventure and a life loved and goodness most of all.

But she knows she is too corrupted now. She is dirty and stained, not like the brilliant and good companion he keeps with him. She feels jealous of this Martha and wishes that they could switch places. Then she changes her mind – she wouldn't wish her fate on anyone.

Every time she passes by him, old and broken, there's an unexpected warmth in her chest. A lovely glow that confuses her. It's different than it is with the Master. With him, she feels like something's crawling inside her, something dark and serpentine worming its way through her system, trapping her. With the Doctor though, it's – well, it's stupid really. He's the loser, they won. She and the Master won. The shop girl lifted up above everyone. Like the Master promised.

It doesn't feel like that.

It feels like dark cages and blood, too much blood. She wonders where the girl she was went, how she could let herself fall so far. She can't remember anymore.

She can see that same question in the Doctor's eyes. Oh, he didn't know her before, but she can see the blame there. It's not hatred like the others. It's something else – an infinite sadness and disappointment. She fears his gaze because he sees her.

And yet, sometimes, when the Doctor looks at her, there's this light. This hope that maybe something can change. She doesn't know why it comes, but it does. As if she can be better than she actually is and she wants to reach that. She wants to prove that she can be that, for him and for herself, but she knows she'll fall short.

Nonetheless she steals extra food from her dinner that night, sliding it onto the napkin on her lap. The Master doesn't notice, he's too busy crowing on about his vision. Then, when he's asleep, she slips away and heads to where the Doctor stays.

He stares at her with tired eyes and she kneels next to him. She hands him the food, but he doesn't move.

"'M sorry. 'S all I can do."

The offering seems so paltry now, so foolish and meager. What was she hoping to accomplish? She cannot rinse her hands of blood with some food for the prisoner. But she cannot turn him young again either. She stands to leave and then he grabs her hand. His grip is surprisingly strong and she imagines his hands around her neck. He could do it. Maybe he should.

"You always have a choice."

It's not what she expects, not that she knows what she expected from him anyway. She shakes her head and pulls away. He lets her go. When she's several feet away, she turns back and looks into tired eyes.

"You're wrong."

X-X-X

The Master is especially angry the next night. Martha has slipped from his fingers once more. He comes into their bedroom, a roiling thundercloud.

He spots her and grabs her arms tightly. There will be bruises later.

"Stop." The word slips out before she can clamp her mouth shut.

"Stop?" He laughs. "I am the Master, your husband. Or have you forgotten?"

He throws her back on the bed, she bounces once and stares up at him. He gets up and covers her. Their coupling is rougher than usual and when he's done, she curls up carefully, whole body aching and burning. Burning with hatred for him, for her, for this twisted love that continues to dwell in her heart.

_You always have a choice._

Rose considers sneaking off and returning with a sharp knife. Wonders what it would feel like slicing through the Master's neck, how his hot blood would pour, how his eyes would widen in shock at his very own Judas. He would never expect it; he thinks she lacks a spine.

He's right. Of course he's right. She's too terrified of getting caught, of the myriad of ways it could all fall apart and more pain land on her. So she just curls tighter and bottles up her tears. She can't do it.

The Doctor is wrong. Maybe some people have a choice, but she doesn't.

X-X-X

She is just a stupid little girl who listened and believed the honeyed charming words of the wolf, fell right into his trap. A victim in the grand scheme of things. Now everything is coming undone and she is still the victim and he will live because the good Doctor forgives him. She almost hates him for that.

Her eyes drop and she sees the discarded gun. Slowly, as if she is moving through water, she reaches out and wraps a hand around the weapon. It feels solid, it feels like absolution and guilt and power.

_You always have a choice. _

She doesn't have to be Little Red. She _isn't _Little Red. She is the wolf and he is her prey. Her eyes gleam as she raises the gun.

Rose stares at the man who made her, the one who lifted her from a mediocre life, the one who turned her world into a house of horrors. She had thought him a savior, a burning sun, someone to take her all the way to the stars, but he had grounded her. Clipped her and hurt her and thrust her deep below where the light could never reach.

_You always have a choice. _

Rose doesn't hesitate as she presses down on the trigger, doesn't blink as the bullet hits him, as scarlet blooms on his shirt, as his eyes widen.

Rose is numb, doesn't feel a thing as everyone rushes around her in a flurry. The gun drops, heavy, from her hands and she watches the man die. She feels nothing as he sneers and the other Time Lord begs him to regenerate. No elation, no sadness, no fury, just a grand stretch of emptiness.

Then when his final breath leaves his body, giddiness fills her and she can't help it – she laughs. It bursts out of her until her whole body is shaking, trembling with it.

She feels broken and shattered and alone, but most of all, she feels free.

X-X-X

"You killed him."

It's the first time she's spoken to the Doctor, really spoken to him on her own except the brief exchanges when she passed him food. He should scare her, but he doesn't. She's beyond that anymore, too tired to really care if he's furious at her.

They stand watching the Master's body burned. The Doctor wanted to do this alone, but she wanted to be here and so she was. She needs to see this nightmare consumed, needs to make sure that every bit of him is incinerated. To be honest, she has no idea what she'll do after, but the thought of his body burning keeps her going for now.

"I don't regret it."

"You shouldn't have."

Her eyes flash. "An' why not? Because of some stupid alien bond, the last two Time Lords in existence so suddenly it's okay to spare the life of someone like him? Because he's some bloody Time Lord? Well, I don't care. He hurt me in ways you can't imagine." Her eyes close and her voice goes quiet. "I let him hurt me. I let myself believe, that he could take me somewhere better, that I was better than I was."

Rose opens them again to look at his face. He's impossible to read – a mixture of anger, sadness, and – what is that? – Pity? Sympathy? Concern? She wants to laugh in his face.

"You could've been better. You could've spared him."

Now she does laugh.

"You really are alien." She sobers quickly and adds. "His weren't the crimes you can forgive."

"I know what he did was awful, but –"

She shakes her head. "No, you don't. It wasn't the fists or the lies that hurt. It was the love. I can never go back."

He had broken something inside of her and no amount of superglue or time could fix it exactly. There would always be pieces missing, jagged edges that couldn't be smoothed, vulnerable fault lines in the curve of her heart. She would never be the same person she had been before.

The Doctor looks at her and it's like he's really looking at her, into her, this time. As if he's seeing past the Mrs. Saxon the media saw, the wife of successful Harold Saxon, past the victim the Master made of her, past the killer she made of herself, right to her core. To Rose Tyler, whoever she was now. She stares back, afraid of what he'll find, of what his reaction will be but curious all the same.

"You can be better, Rose Tyler."

The way he says her name makes her want to believe in it. It's not a prayer or a hymn, but it's something. Not absolution, her sins will never be washed clean. Hope, maybe. Hope that she can change, that she can move on from this point in her life. She has no delusions of seeing the stars anymore, no visions of grandeur, but she can find who she is. She can dig through the layers and figure out Rose Tyler, not a monster, not a victim, but a woman, a person.

"Thank you, Doctor."

He turns to leave.

A million things she could say, wants to say, rush through her mind. She doesn't say any of them, just gives him a soft smile. "Will I ever see you again?"

He looks back with a shuttered face. "Maybe."

It's not a promise, but she's lost her stomach for those anyway. Wrapped up in that maybe, there's a world of possibility and she likes that. She likes the openness, the freedom, the uncertainty, of the word. It doesn't hold either of them to anything, it doesn't lend itself to broken hearts or shattered dreams. It just is.

X-X-X

Rose freezes at the door. The last time she was here, she had said a number of nasty things. So had her mum.

She gulps and turns away. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Jackie Tyler is better off without a damaged daughter. Maybe she should stay away, keep the broken pieces to herself. She bites her lip and then whirls around. Maybe it is better, but she can't help being selfish. Her world has fallen apart, she pulled the carpet out herself, and she needs someone familiar to grasp on to. She needs her mum more than ever.

Heart thumping in her chest like a maniac, she slips her key in and opens the door. Her voice trembles and creaks, "Mum?"

Jackie Tyler is there. Her eyes widen as she takes in her daughter and Rose prepares herself for rejection, even though she wants nothing more than the comfort of her mum's arms. "Oh my God, Rose! Rose!"

Then Jackie Tyler's arms are around her, pulling her close. They're both crying and it feels so good to finally be home.

X-X-X

Rose is back to working a mediocre job. Her hair is dark now and shorter because people still remember Mrs. Saxon and she couldn't bear their whispers. She wears leather and jeans, is harder on the outside. The look suits her.

Her mum is back to a cycle of affection and argument, but Rose catches her worried looks, as if her daughter will just fade away one day. Her friendship with Mickey continues, but it's a tentative creature and she knows it'll never be the same. She's too different now and he's mostly still the same funny boy she's always known. It's a dissonant friendship that only works when they pretend nothing happened. Her other friends aren't her friends anymore. She's made some new ones who know nothing, so it's almost okay.

She hops off the bus and begins the short walk to her apartment building. It's in that moment when she spots him. The Doctor, leaning against his TARDIS. They stare at one another for a moment and then he jerks his head, motioning her to come over.

It would be easy to pretend he wasn't there and walk on. Her life has settled into something close to normal and she doesn't need any complications. But she walks over to him anyway because taking the hard path is all she ever seems to do.

"Hello, Doctor."

"Rose Tyler."

"Is the world in danger again?"

He grins at her. "It's always in trouble somewhere."

"Or somewhen."

His grin widens and then he's laughing. She joins in with his laughter. It feels so good, to share this kind of moment with someone. Even though things have settled into almost-normal around her, they are still tense.

"I can see why he chose you."

Her laughter dies instantly. It feels like she's the Rose of months ago, when all these wounds were fresh and she still felt so stupid. But then those feelings never really went away. She stares at the ground and wonders if the Doctor came here to call her names. "Coz 'm daft an' –"

"No." She looks up at him in surprise, searches his face for dishonesty. There isn't any. He's entirely open, eyes shining, all lit up from the inside. Her heart flops in her chest. "You're clever, cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Stronger too."

Even if what he says is true, Rose knows it's not the full story. The Master didn't just choose her for her; he chose her because she was there. She was available and perhaps most importantly, she was just some kid off the Estate with no future but big dreams. Easy pickings.

"Stop lying."

"It's true. I would've –" He cuts himself off then and looks away.

Her heart skips a beat. She is terrified and wants to run, but her feet refuse to budge. "You would've what?"

He considers her for a time. She twitches under his deep scrutiny, wonders what he finds there. Finally he speaks. "I would've taken you."

"Not anymore though…?" She leaves it hanging there between them, both a statement and a question, wrapped up in all her hopes and dreams but ready for the crushing disappointment because that's her life now.

"I don't know… Would you still go?"

The question catches her off-guard and she wants to agree immediately, but she doesn't. Because, a second twinge strikes her. She's seen what horrors this universe contains, seen how it can break and twist a person into something terrible, hell she's _been _that person. And he doesn't need this, doesn't need a companion who is still so far down in the pit where the stars can never reach. She doesn't deserve this.

"I don't know." She echoes back and they share another secret smile.

Silence settles over them. It's almost comfortable, this silence. She imagines another life, one where she met the Doctor before the Master. One where they could share comfortable silences and loud laughs and wonderful adventures. One where, instead of falling, she flew.

But that's not her life.

He heaves himself off the railing. "I better go. But, uh, how would you like a trip? Just one to see the stars, maybe step foot on another planet? Something simple and nice? One trip, what do ya say?"

Her face breaks out into a smile, a big one like sunlight and stardust. "I'd love it."


	6. Fall

**A/N:** It's Tentoo's birthday today, but I didn't have time to write a full fic so I went digging through my files for something. This has nothing to do with birthdays and is only half Tentoo, but it's something. Rest assured though; I have two long fics in the process that will hopefully be finished this weekend depending on my homework.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose, Tentoo/Rose

**Summary: **Two waterfalls in two universes. Short and fluffy.

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

* * *

**Fall**

"The Majestic Falls of Scree-tal." The Doctor spreads his arms wide.

The waterfall towers over them, thousands of meters, the top lost to silvery clouds. Water cascades down in gleaming, orange sheets. The basin it falls into is the deepest orange and the spray glitters in the air like drops of gold. Obsidian cliffs cradle the whole scene.

"'S beautiful." She breathes out, mesmerized by the otherworldly gleam of everything. Whether it's her first wonder of the universe or her hundredth, she expects she'll always feel like this – eyes wide, mouth open in awe, completely enraptured with how beautiful the universe can be.

He smiles, takes her hand, and points. "D'you see them?" Sapphire fish-like humanoids with trailing fins at their elbows, thighs, and ankles glide through the pool. Some of them also climb the falls.

When she nods, he continues. "Those are the Scree. These waterfalls are their… well, they're a bit like their holy sites, but not quite that." He clicks his tongue and pauses to think of an analogy that would make sense to her. "Imagine a temple, but make it even more important, even more vital to their lives. Temple and capital and proving grounds. Each Scree has to ascend the falls at least once a year when they reach maturity."

Rose watches as one of the Scree topples from thirty meters up the waterfall. Its fins wave in the air like banners and then it hits the water with a small splash. "What happens if one doesn't?"

"They'll all know that it failed and it'll die alone. Even a partner from an earlier year will leave."

Compassion for the creature that fell floods her. She wants to lift it up, wants to see it conquer the waterfall, but this is something they do alone. "Can it try again?"

"Until it wants to give up, yeah."

They watch the Scree swim and climb and fall until the red sun begins to set, holding hands the entire time. In a few weeks, she'll fall dangerously close to the Void and her savior will also be her damnation, but for now, she is happy.

X-X-X

"Not quite the Majestic Falls of Scree-tal, but it's here."

This waterfall is considerably smaller than the Majestic Falls. It's not even the most impressive waterfall on Earth. It's just a little one in the middle of the English woods, feeding into a pool. The area is surrounded by trees and ferns, light filtering through the shade. Cool and secluded.

She discovered it on her own, a few months after being stuck in this dimension when the urge to explore had brought her out hiking. It became her spot to get away from the city and relax. And now she's brought him here. Suddenly she's frightened that he'll scoff, that this little cove can't possibly live up to anything he's seen and that it'll only remind him of what he no longer has.

But he beams at her. "It's beautiful."

They spend a few moments standing side by side, holding hands and taking in the idyllic scene. Then his smile becomes a manic grin and he's tugging off his shirt. His trainers, socks, and trousers soon follow. She catches on and begins to undress as he clambers up the cliffs to the waterfall's top. There's a moment when she thinks he'll fall, his legs scrambling for purchase on the slippery surface, but he manages to get up.

"C'mon Rose."

Sporting an identical grin, Rose climbs after him. Near the top, her feet slip on the wet stone and she begins to fall. Her body braces for impact.

But he grabs her arm. "Now, now, don't go jumpin' from down there. It's up here that you want to jump from." She sticks her tongue out at him as he tugs her up the rest of the way.

They stand on the rock for a moment, the world turning around them. The Scree come to mind with their brutal ceremony, their quick abandonment of those who fall too early. No one will catch them. Her hand tightens around his. Falling or standing, she has him here. Their promise lingers in the air – he will never run away and she will never toss him aside.

They exchange smiles before jumping into the pool below.


	7. My Beacon, My Light

**A/N:** Written for Rose Empowerment Fortnight over at the I Bring Life Project on Tumblr.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **Even in the darkest of pits, he has a light. Her name is Rose Tyler and she will come for him.

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them.

* * *

**My Beacon, My Light**

Most men went mad in the darkness. They forgot themselves – their names, their families, their hopes and dreams and passions. This was the kind of darkness that ate and ate until there was nothing left.

The Doctor wasn't most men.

He listed the names of Presidents. Rassilon. Pandak. Morbius. Borusa. Romana. And so on. He ran through planets – Raxacoricofallapatorius, Padrivole Regency 9, Earth, Felspoon – and the major flora and fauna indigenous to each. He kept up a rambling lecture on quantum mechanics, pointing at false diagrams of electrons and star systems. The activities kept his mind from dwelling on the darkness when he wasn't racking his mind for escape plans.

What kept him going most of all though was the thought of Rose. Rose Tyler, his companion. His beautiful, brilliant, compassionate Rose. He didn't know where she was or even if she was alive, but he believed it. A gut feeling, foolish maybe, but he believed in her. She would come just like he would for her.

Her image formed in his mind. Tongue-in-teeth smile, golden hair, eyes brimming with warmth and laughter and love. Sometimes she would be radiating light, a goddess, Bad Wolf. Most times she only had her inner light, shining in her eyes as she fought her way to him. His hands curled in empty air, searching for warm fingers and finding none.

Until then, until the moment she came, he had to make do with himself. He had explored the chamber the moment he'd woken up in this overwhelming darkness, but there'd been no luck. The walls were entirely smooth, not even the slightest indentation where a door might be. The floor was similarly built. He'd licked it – it had tasted of blood and death with just the slightest tang of titanium poking through.

He'd taken stock of himself as well. Two legs, two arms, all body parts still intact though his hair was sticky with blood from a wound on his head. They had taken his clothes and dressed him in the scratchy rags of a previous prisoner. The Doctor's nose had wrinkled at the smell of sweat and fear. No sonic screwdriver, it would be just his wits. Wits and the hope that Rose would find a way in.

Three days had passed since then with no disturbances. He was grateful for his internal clock keeping track of every second; if he were human, he would've lost track of time, the hours spinning away to days and weeks and months. He hoped it wouldn't come to that long.

Light peeked into the room. The Doctor blinked his eyes shut and then forced them open to look at the source. It was from above, a small slat in the ceiling. As he squinted up at it, a cylindrical object dropped down. The slat closed just as quickly as it had opened, taking the light with it.

The Doctor stood and stretched out his fingers, rising up on his tiptoes. He sighed when his fingers brushed thin air. He tried jumping next, but even his best attempts were met with nothing.

"I couldn't have been a bit taller." He muttered. The darkness consumed the words, so he didn't even have the comfort of his own echo.

Well, if he couldn't reach the ceiling, there was only one thing left to do. The Doctor felt around for the fallen object. His fingers brushed plastic; he grabbed it and held it close. His hands traced over the cylindrical container, stopping at the top where a small tab stuck out. He tugged it open.

A fruity aroma filled the space, mixing with the other smells of waste and decay. His nose wrinkled in distaste; normally he would've liked the sweet scent, but in here, it was too much. It clogged his senses and only added to the muggy air.

Still, it was food. His mouth began salivating and he just barely resisted the urge to gorge on the container's contents in one go. He had to be careful. It wouldn't do to die of poison before Rose could reach him.

The Doctor stuck a finger into the cylinder, into the sticky liquid inside. He drew out the digit and lapped at it. Peaches, it tasted of sweet canned peaches and nothing else. Safe to eat. Probably. In any case, there were easier ways to kill him down here.

He reached in once more and fished out a chunk. His tongue snaked out, licking the piece, testing it, before he plopped the whole piece into his mouth. Sweetness flooded his senses as he gingerly chewed and swallowed. The second piece came faster and though he tried to pace himself, the cylinder was soon emptied of peaches. He finished it off by drinking down the juice and then set the container aside.

At least he wouldn't starve. His captors were, for whatever reason, keeping him alive. Perhaps testing how long it took to break a Time Lord in complete darkness? They'd be disappointed then; he had no intention of crumbling because of a little darkness.

Stomach full of peaches, the Doctor leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. Next time it opened, he would be ready to reach out and jump for it.

His mind turned to Rose once more. Wherever she was, he hoped she was safe. Safe and coming to get him.

X-X-X

The Doctor had been missing for a week now. Last time she'd seen him had been at the markets of Halsten Prime when he'd wandered off to look for TARDIS parts and she had stayed by the fabric stalls. After that, Rose had searched the markets for him and eventually – dejected – trudged to the TARDIS, armed with a scolding on going home without her.

But the TARDIS had been empty.

Five and a half hours had passed before Rose started another search, but it had proved fruitless until a beggar in an alleyway told her about the Putrari that had seized a man fitting her description. He didn't know where they'd taken the man, just that they had and that they often picked people off the streets. For studying, he added and then took the rest of the offered money.

Looking for the Doctor wasn't easy. With no way to pilot the TARDIS, Rose was stuck to frequenting all sorts of haunts on Halsten Prime with the hope that someone somewhere would know something. So far, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was beginning to weigh on her and she had spent more than one time night crying herself to sleep, but she wasn't going to give up.

Today Rose entered the Battered Moon, a small pub tucked away on a narrow street. Round orbs provided meager lighting to the establishment, illuminating the rugged, burly wretches who came here and the prostitutes – men and women – who circled potential customers. Metal played over the tinny stereo system. She chose a spot at the counter and waited for the bartender – a violet-skinned native, scaly with spines and fangs and apron – to approach her.

"What'll it be?"

"Jus' some ale." Before she could move on, Rose leaned in and added, "An' some information."

The bartender considered her for a moment and then nodded, leaning an elbow against the counter. "Go on."

"The Putrari. I need to know where they are."

"Sorry, sweetheart. I don't know 'bout that. No one does."

"Someone _has _to. I need to find them."

"You'd be better off chasing shadows. Least those won't kill you." The bartender pushed off from the counter and sauntered off to prepare her drink.

Rose sighed and shut her eyes. If the Doctor was here, he would know what to do. But then if the Doctor was there, she wouldn't be sitting in the Battered Moon in the first place. She wouldn't have to wonder what was happening to him, if he was still alive.

Her nails dug into her skin. No, of course he was alive. She couldn't think differently. He was alive. Maybe not the perfect-picture of health and happiness, maybe in gruesome amounts of pain, but alive. His image appeared in her mind, grinning, telling her not to worry so much, that he'd get out of this situation with his sonic screwdriver and oh-so-impressive Time Lord brain and then they'd go for chips. She'd like that, wouldn't she?

"Whatcha lookin' for the Putrari for anyway?"

Rose opened her eyes. The bartender had returned with her amber drink. She accepted the glass and slid some coins over. She swiped a forked tongue over one before pocketing them. Rose's heart jerked at the reminder of her Doctor and his propensity for licking objects.

"They took my friend. I need to get him back."

She gave her a pitying smile. "I'm sorry."

"He's not dead." She said far too quickly. His smile only grew more pitying.

"You loved him?"

She didn't say anything. Of course she did, but then she had never said those words before. Not to him, not to anyone, not even to herself, not really. She knew she loved him, knew it like she knew her own name, but the words just got lost in the jumble of everything else in their lives.

The bartender must've seen something on her face because she nodded. "They come by sometimes. The Putrari. Never talk to anyone else, but they grab a drink before leaving." Her eyes lit up. "I'm not saying they'll show up soon, but they might. You know what they look like?"

Rose nodded. She'd looked up pictures in the TARDIS beforehand.

"They won't speak to you, but you could try following one back. Not saying it'll work, but it could." The bartender shrugged. "They're nasty creatures. They catch you, they kill you."

She nodded again. "I know, but I have to. He'd do the same for me."

He might have tracked them down using a localizer on the TARDIS or something instead of interviewing locals for scraps of information, but he would've come for her all the same. She wouldn't let him down now, just because there was a chance they'd kill her.

"Good luck." The look the bartender flashed her made it clear she didn't think Rose would make it, but that didn't matter. She would, for the Doctor.

X-X-X

Rose sat in a corner of the Battered Moon, her drink untouched by her side. She had been coming here for days now with no results. She sighed and looked down at the amber liquid in her glass. What if she was already too late? What if something awful had happened to the Doctor and it was her fault for not finding him sooner? Or what if the Putrari had gone off-planet, taking their prisoners with them?

Her grip on the drink tightened. She couldn't think like that. He was alive, he had to be. Her eyes closed and she summoned an image of him. Smiling and rambling on about this or that, encouraging her. _I'll find you, Doctor. _His mental duplicate beamed at her.

The pub fell silent – the laughing and chatter and clink of cups all ceasing at once, so the only sound was the metal over the stereo.

Rose's eyes shot open. An ivory alien with skin smooth as bone and gangly limbs had arrived. He paused at the entrance, black eyes peering at them all in distaste, and then proceeded to the counter. His white coat swished through the air as he moved past. She shivered and clenched her hands into fists. Conversation resumed throughout the pub albeit quieter than before.

The Putrari appeared almost human, if you had cast a human in marble and scrubbed away any jutting facial features – nose and ears and lips – then stretched their body out to produce something bony and tall. His fingers were thin and spindly as they wrapped around a glass and lifted it to his slit of a mouth. Rose watched, her own fingers running frantically along her own glass. This was it.

Minutes passed and then the Putrari stood, having finished his drink, and strode out the pub. The bartender shot her a quick salute. Rose gave her a smile and slunk after her prey. Behind her, the pub returned to its previous clamor.

She crept after the Putrari, keeping a large distance between the two of them. As he moved, people parted for him, averting eyes and hurrying away with lowered heads. Gradually they left the busy market area of the city behind and entered the much quieter warehouse district.

He kept on weaving through buildings until he reached a white structure with peeling paint. Rose ducked behind a different building to observe him. He lifted a hidden panel and typed in a code too fast for her to track. A ray of light popped out, scanning his retina, and then the door popped open. He slipped through. It shut behind him.

Phase one was complete. Rose knew the base's location. Now she just needed a plan to break in and bust the Doctor out. She hurried off to the TARDIS for supplies.

X-X-X

The Doctor couldn't see a thing, just like in the waking world, but he could feel Rose's warm hand in his and hear the cadence of her voice. Her words blurred into one another until they were just a string of unintelligible syllables. He frowned and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but nothing came out. He tried again and again, yelling with all his power but no sound escaped. His hand tightened on hers and then her fingers were gone, dissipating from his grasp like vapor. He tried to shout her name, but once again, he couldn't speak for the tightness in his throat. He couldn't do anything. Just die alone.

Golden light flooded the darkness, suffusing every inch of his world in its soft warmth. _Doctor, my Doctor. _

And then a boom shattered the dream and pulled him into the waking world. Despite his vow not to rest, two weeks of not sleeping, of sitting around and talking to nobody and stretching his limbs and watching the ceiling (there had been a few incidences where the slot opened to deposit his food but he'd never been able to reach it, no matter how much he tried), had taken their toll on the Doctor. He was on the floor, his cheek pressed to the smooth floor. He was still tired too, but loud noises took precedence over more sleep.

A panel slid open and just as in his dream, light filled the cell. It wasn't golden, this light, it was a cheap fluorescent variety, white and shaky but it may as well have been the sun to his eyes. He peered up, squinting at where the ceiling had opened. Haloed by the light knelt Rose Tyler, smiling down at him.

"Hello."

Was he still dreaming? Would she fade away again? But no, she was still there, waiting, her eyes worried. He remembered waking and it didn't make sense to wake from one dream to fall into another. In any case, he found he didn't care much if this was just a dream. It was a nice one and he could see.

"Hello," he parroted back, wetting his cracked lips with a quick lick. He was aware of how he must look – eyes almost shut to the brightness, skin dirty with the days, rags hanging off his too-thin body with his ribs sticking out, hair limp and oily, a grin wider than the Medusa Cascade across his face. In comparison, she seemed to shine.

Rose stretched out a hand for him. "C'mon Doctor. We need to get you out before they send back-up."

He grabbed her hand after jumping and with a mighty tug, she pulled him out of his pit. They fell backward to the floor. The Doctor would've been content to lie there – his body was already protesting the activity and they hadn't even started yet, not really, but he was already so tired, his limbs so heavy with lack of nutrition and rest and exercise.

She stood first and helped him to his feet. His muscles complained and the world spun around him, but he told them to stuff it and instead focused his attention on Rose. That was easier than focusing on the world in any case. There were shadows under her eyes, but otherwise she looked healthy.

Rose wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He buried his face into her hair, breathing her in. His brilliant Rose.

"'M glad you're alive."

"We're not out yet." But he was relieved and optimistic that they would get out now that she was here and he was out of his cell.

Rose nodded and drew back to look him over. "Are you okay to run?"

"Always am." His words were a lot more confident than he felt, but then he was also confident in her ability to get them both to safety.

Rose didn't look like she believed him either, but she nodded her head anyway. "Lean on me, Doctor, and we'll go fast as you can."

With his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist, they shuffled off through the hallway. Other trapdoors dotted the floor, but there weren't any guards around yet.

"Where'd they go? There were guards, weren't there?"

"There was a convenient explosion upstairs."

He beamed at her. "Brilliant."

She smiled back.

They passed through the exit where a sole guard lay slumped on the floor. The Doctor glanced down at her, catching sight of the gun he had failed to notice before. His stomach stirred. She caught him looking and shrugged. "'S just a stun gun. Needed something in case one of them saw me."

"My sonic screwdriver!" If his arms felt less like lead, he would've slapped himself. How could he almost forget about the small device, not to mention his beloved coat and psychic paper?

Rose frowned. "Do you know where they took it?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I was out the whole time. It has to be around here somewhere. Maybe through there?" He gestured at the small doorway to their side.

"Doctor, we don't have much time."

"I need to get it."

"An' if they come down here while we're looking?"

The Doctor frowned. He didn't want to be recaptured. More than that, he didn't want Rose to be captured and thrown into the darkness. She deserved the stars, not a pit in the ground. Or they might just kill her. Also not good. But what would he do without his trusty sonic screwdriver?

He sighed. Screwdrivers were replaceable; Rose wasn't. He would do a quick look in the room and if it wasn't there, they would leave. Just as he opened his mouth to inform her of his decision, footsteps and loud voices sounded through the hall.

Rose grabbed him and tugged him through the door, clicking it shut behind them. It was a small guardroom complete with table, chairs, and refrigeration unit. A bin stood at the far end filled with looted clothes.

He shuffled over to the bin while she stood behind the table, her gun leveled at the door. There were leather jackets, trousers, even a feathery cap, but he couldn't find his long coat. The Doctor leaned in further. It had to be in here somewhere.

From outside the door, a Putrari spoke. "Prisoner 45 is loose."

"Find him." Another voice, lower than the first. "We cannot allow our only Time Lord specimen to escape."

The Doctor stilled as the door slid open. Not good, not good, not good. He was about to turn around and bargain for their lives when Rose's gun fired. The alien went down. Three more piled into the room, each baring an energy blaster. Damn.

"Drop your weapons or we shoot." The Putrari in the center smiled crookedly.

Rose set her gun down as the Doctor straightened, raising his hands in the air. Well, this was it. Maybe if he talked fast enough, he could get them out. Putrari weren't known for releasing captives, most certainly not ones they hadn't studied yet or ones that had escaped, but there was a first time for everything. His mind spun as he considered his options. There was nothing to threaten them with. Begging wouldn't work. A bluff then. He could whip one of those up in a jiffy. Rose beat him to it.

"Release us and the rest of the prisoners or I blow up the base." Her hand was curled around a small trigger, thumb nearly pressing the button.

The lead Putrari hissed. "You're bluffing."

"I set off the explosion upstairs. I left some extra explosives around in case we got caught. Enough to take down the whole base, not just a part of it."

The Doctor grinned and resisted the urge to pump his fist in victory. Ha! Even if it was a bluff, it was a well-played one. Surely the Putrari wouldn't risk it. They murmured amongst one another before the one in the center turned to them.

"We will allow you to go."

"And the others?"

The answer was immediate. "We cannot release our life's work."

"Are you sure 'bout that?" Rose pressed halfway down on the button.

"You wouldn't. You'd blow yourselves up along with us."

"She would." The Doctor piped in. All eyes turned to him. "Big heart, this one, and a complete nutter. Not a safe combination, let me tell you. Almost got us killed dozens of times before this, but they were all smart enough to surrender. Best to let the prisoners all go and find a new life's work. Might I suggest botany? Booming market, that. People are always looking for better crops to grow. It'll be huge."

The aliens considered them both. The Doctor and Rose returned their looks with manic grins. The one in the center exhaled slowly. "We will send word to our head."

"Brilliant. An' I'll want my coat back too!"

X-X-X

In the end, the commander agreed to release the captured prisoners. As the prisoners shuffled out from the base to waiting ambulances, the Doctor and Rose slipped away to return to the TARDIS. He was back in his suit and coat and all was as it should be. All he needed now was a good shower, something more substantial than peaches, and then a good rest.

"Did you really have explosives rigged up to blow the base?"

"I wasn't going to make an empty threat."

He grinned at her before sending the TARDIS into the Vortex with the flick of a lever.

"So, 'm a nutter then?"

His arm came up around her shoulders, pulling her into a half-hug. "Only as nutty as I am."

"That's the least reassuring thing you've ever said." She smiled at him, her tongue catching between her teeth. He stared at it, his own tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"I missed you." The Doctor turned so they were face-to-face, adjusting his arms to hold her hips. Her hands went up to rest over his hearts.

"I missed you too." Her eyes were wet. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Never."

He leaned in, hesitating a few centimeters from her lips. They stood at a cliff, a wide chasm below them. Possibility stretched out in that direction, a whole tangle of potential events that would change their timeline. They would fly or they would fall or they would scurry away from the ledge like they always did.

Rose trembled and closed the rest of the distance between them. Their kiss was chaste at first, just the gentle pressing of lips against one another. He opened his mouth first to swipe his tongue along her lips. She opened to him. Their tongues ran along each other before delving deeper, tasting and exploring. He tugged her closer as her hands slipped into his hair. Time stretched out before them and he could almost believe that they wouldn't fall into any of its pits, that she would never lose him and he would never lose her. That they would keep on like this.

It was a lovely thought, almost as lovely as the here-and-now sensations of Rose's lips on his and her fingers in his hair. Eventually she pulled away, her nose wrinkling.

"You could use a shower."

The Doctor pouted. "Rose…"

She smirked. "If you ask nicely, I'll join you."

He did and she stayed quiet long enough to make him squirm before grabbing his arm and tugging him off in the bathroom's direction.


	8. dreams are for children

**A/N:** This was somewhat inspired by the opening scene of _Up _although it takes a very different path. If you have any prompts (AU or canon), let me know because I'm on a writing kick right now.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **AU. "There were two friends. Best friends ever since she saved him from a nasty beast. He couldn't pay her back though, so he promised the stars. They were always running, away or to or just coz, looking at everything around them, until one day they stopped and looked at each other."

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them.

* * *

**dreams are for children**

He's a small kid with hair like a hedgehog, all gawky angles and split smiles. The other kids pick on him because he spends too much time drawing in his notebook, tinkering with objects ("it'll sharpen pencils better than ever" he announces before the thing starts smoking), and staring at the sky. His teachers say he's a smart boy, brilliant even, but if only he would apply himself. The other kids don't like that. They call him stupid or weird or teacher's pet even if he isn't any of that, not really (well the weird part is probably right but the rest are wrong).

Randy is the worst of the lot. He steals lunches and pushes him into mud puddles. Not that he minds mud puddles much. They can be fun when you're not shoved fact-first into them. Randy is one of those kids who uses his fists because they're all he has. That and _friends_.

He's sprawled out under a tree, sketching a ship that could take him away from here, all the way to the stars, to Mars and Jupiter and beyond, maybe even in time because how brilliant would that be, to meet Shakespeare and walk through Athens at its height, when Randy finds him.

Randy takes one look at the notebook and scowls. "What've ya got there? Give it here."

He ignores him, focuses on the curve of the console instead.

"I said give it here!"

The notebook is snatched from his hands, to a gale of laughter from Randy's squad.

A scowl darkens his face and he stands up. "Give that back!" It sounds small and insignificant, even to his own ears. Squeaky, like a mouse against a lion.

Randy's brow rises. One day he'll have to stitch his own mouth shut and maybe then he can avoid trouble. "Little punk thinks he can order me 'bout!"

"Show 'im what you've got!"

Before he can do anything to prevent it, Randy's fist connects with his face. Pain explodes; stars dance in his eyes. Next thing he knows, he's down on the ground with Randy standing over him, triumphant and crowing like a cock.

"Hey!"

They all turn to this new voice, feminine and sweet but also hard as steel – well hard as a little girl can get her voice anyway. It's the new girl. Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler with her plaited hair and pink hoodie.

Her fists thump into Randy, knocking the bully to the ground. She picks up the notebook and smiles down at him. He returns the smile and accepts the offered hand up and then his notebook.

Randy is getting back up. No time to chat now. There's only one thing to do, the one thing he's always done, but it feels different now. Weightier somehow, a turning point in the world, but he doesn't think about it.

He just grabs her hand. "Run!"

They do.

X-X-X

They hide in the candy store among long whips of liquorice and balls of sugar, both panting from the run over.

"That was brilliant." He bounces on his feet, all manic energy and excitement.

She shrugs and grins back. "He deserved it."

He points around them. "What do you want? I'll pay."

Her eyes light up. She chooses a pack of gummy worms and chocolate bites. He selects a large lollypop and sugar sticks. When they reach the counter, he reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pencil, several paperclips, a yo-yo, a pebble so smooth it'll surely skip across water, and a tangle of wires. He smiles sheepishly at her and she rolls her eyes.

"You owe me," she says as she hands money over.

X-X-X

He pulls a large book off a shelf. The front cover is embossed: _The Places I Will Go_. It's his dreams and aspirations and hopes, everything to him.

"This is my adventure book." He's never shown this to anyone, but there's something about Rose. Something special. She didn't laugh at him. She's open and kind, makes him laugh, has the best smiles in the world, listened intently when he rambled about this little town, indulged his numerous questions about her; he wants to share something important with her. She watches in interest as he flips the book open. "I'm going to go to all these places one day."

There are photos inside, faded ones torn from magazines mostly. There are news clippings and the names of places written in his scrawl. The Serengeti. New York. Mount Everest. Tokyo. The Amazon. He blabbers on about everything, about dead pharaohs in their pyramids, about huskies tugging sleds across snow, about caverns of crystals tucked away in the world's crevices. There are blank spots, so he can put his own pictures in. On the last page, there's a chart of the stars, white pinpricks of light in a dark blue sky. He doesn't say anything here, just stares at the stars with her.

When he's done showing her the book, he gives her a nervous smile and adds, "If you want, you can come too."

She looks at him closely with liquid eyes and he shifts, suddenly unsure of himself. Then she grins, catching her tongue between her teeth. "Better with two, yeah?"

He returns the grin and nods.

X-X-X

Their parents don't allow sleepovers, but he still sneaks over to her place and she to his. They live on opposite sides of the tracks – he in a large almost-a-mansion house, she in a small flat. Neither one cares though she is nervous the first time she takes him home. He loves it because it's so undeniably her space.

They sit on rooftops as he points at constellations and tells stories. Orion. Cassiopeia. Cygnus. The big bear and the little one. Sometimes he brings along his telescope, so they can be that much closer to the stars.

When they can manage it, if their parents aren't there or are fast asleep, they watch videos together, science fiction shows set in galaxies far away from theirs. One time, her mum catches them in her room and chases him off with a broom.

After that, Rose tells him, "We need a clubhouse."

He gets to work sketching out plans. She scavenges for wood, finds some old pieces along with some corrugated metal and rope. He nicks tools from his father's toolbox. They hammer and saw and paint until they have a small place constructed in the tree branches. They christen it with juice boxes and then lie down on a worn, blue blanket.

There's a flap in the roof, which he opens with a tug on a rope. Above them are the starry heavens. They continue their ritual and she often falls asleep to his soothing voice rambling on about stars and galaxies and far-off places.

The clubhouse is filled with their dreams. Drawings and magazine cut-outs and books pile up inside. Bits of machinery are scattered about. A stockpile of candy and other snacks is maintained. Water guns, in case of defense, stand at the ready. The centerpiece of everything is his book, their book now, waiting to be filled with their adventures.

One day she carves two words into the wood. Bad Wolf.

"What's that?" He asks, head tilted.

Wolf, _Canis lupus_, central in various mythologies, monster in some, caretaker in others, one of Rose's favorite animals.

Bad, he doesn't get that part. A reference to the Big Bad Wolf gobbling up little girls and piggies, maybe? Except Rose isn't the Big Bad Wolf in any tale unless she's the Big Bad Wolf to bullies like Randy but that isn't Bad, it's Good, so maybe she should be Good Wolf.

"If I ever get superpowers, it's going to be my superhero identity."

He chuckles and points at the first word. "A superhero can't have Bad in their name. It's not right."

"Then I'll be a supervillain."

She does her best attempt at evil laughter and they spend the rest of the afternoon trying to outdo each other in that department.

Before they leave, she points back at the graffiti and says, "You need a name. I need a sidekick." He stares at her, mouth half-open in complaint. "Fine, partner. What'll it be?"

He takes the knife from her and considers the situation. Several possibilities run through his head until the perfect one flashes by. He starts carving, making sure she can't see until he's done. When he steps aside, he grins and awaits her approval.

"The Doctor?" She raises an eyebrow.

"I'll heal people, fix problems, that sorta stuff. The Doctor."

"Big head," but it's an affectionate endearment accompanied by a friendly eye-roll.

"The Doctor and Bad Wolf." He tries it out, likes the way it sounds, the way it rolls off his tongue as if they really were the stuff of legend instead of two kids in a tree house. From her smile, he can tell she likes it too. They leave the clubhouse together, rushing off to dinner.

Years later when they aren't so little, he climbs up to the clubhouse alone and the wood breaks under him. He falls to the ground, whimpering, ankle twisted unnaturally, until she finds him. She murmurs assurances to his dramatic whining until the ambulance arrives to take him to the hospital.

The last thing he says before he goes is, "Get the book."

X-X-X

They grow.

He stretches out until he's one of the taller kids though he's still skinny as a rake. She teases him about it and then brushes his hair back. Meanwhile, she gains curves. Other boys notice her, wolf-whistle in the streets, sneak glances down her shirts. She dates one of them for a while, a bloke named Jimmy, a handsome musician who thinks school is a waste of time, until she catches him shagging another girl in a closet.

They sit on the sofa together after that, a tub of ice cream between them. She's already demolished half of it when she drops her spoon and mutters, "'M so daft."

"You're not."

"Yeah I am."

He reaches over and takes her hands. They fit together like always, as if they simply grew with each other. "No, you're not. You're brilliant. Bloody brilliant. Most brilliant person in the whole world. In the whole universe even. You are. An' Jimmy's an asshole."

Rose smiles at him in-between her tears. She leans in to kiss him and he almost does because he really really wants to, only to pull away at the last moment. This isn't right. A sigh escapes her and she looks down at the melting ice-cream.

"Not yet," he promises and squeezes her hand.

X-X-X

Two months later, they go to the winter ball together. As friends is what they tell everyone else. As something else is what rests unspoken between them. He wears a pinstripe suit. She wears a gorgeous full-length, strapless dress. They dance, bodies shaking and swinging to the steady beats, until they get bored.

He leans close and whispers, "Run!"

She giggles, takes his hand, and follows him out the gym. They keep going until they reach a grassy hillside. And in the grass, their old blanket, worn and blue as ever. He's been planning this for some time now and he's nearly vibrating with frantic energy. Together, they lie back on the blanket. He tells her about the constellations like old times and hands over his jacket when she gets cold. They drift into a rare silence.

"There's a new one."

"Oh?" He keeps track of all astronomical news and he can't recall anything about new constellations, but he'll listen to her.

She nods, as solemn as a priest, and then grabs his hand. She traces out the stars, ten in all, and begins her story. "There were two friends. Best friends ever since she saved him from a nasty beast. He couldn't pay her back though, so he promised the stars. They were always running, away or to or just coz, looking at everything around them, until one day they stopped and looked at each other."

They're no longer looking at the stars; he's looking at her and she's looking at him and they're so close they can almost touch. Her warm breath brushes his face and he summons up words. "Did they ever reach them? The stars?"

Her brow crinkles in amusement. "They're up there now, aren't they?"

He leans in the last inch and presses his lips to hers.

X-X-X

Some things stay the same, some things change.

They still get chips every week at their favorite chippy. He still makes faces as she drowns hers in vinegar and she still steals his every chance she gets. They still watch the stars and hold hands everywhere they run.

They discover new places to snog. Beneath trees and behind buildings and in closets. Shagging too, they do that quite a bit and it's wonderful.

After, when they're sweaty and sated, limbs tangled, he whispers in her ear. "After we graduate, we can go anywhere."

She smiles, a sleepy, content one. It's one of his favorites, but then all her smiles are his favorites. "'S nice."

"We can go to Rome. We can eat real Italian gelato and walk along the Via Appia. We can see the Pantheon and the Coliseum and all the other things people go to Rome for. Just the two of us. Then we can go to Egypt to see the great pyramids and then the Great Wall of China and the Terracotta Army and the Amazon rainforest and whatever else we want to see. We can see everything. Together. What do you think?"

His only answer is a light snore and he realizes she's dozed off. He laughs, kisses her nose, and falls asleep himself.

Everything is bright.

X-X-X

"You're leaving." Her voice is flat, dull. It's one of the few times she's closed up on him and he wishes more than anything that he could draw her out.

"Not forever." He promises, tilting her chin so she can see the sincerity in his eyes. "You can come with me."

She wants to; it's clear as day in her eyes. But she only ends up biting her lip and looking away. "I can't. Mum hasn't been well. She needs me."

He nods. He knows that, has known since she found her mum collapsed on the floor and called him from the hospital in tears. He'd come then, stayed with her the entire night, holding her hand and stroking her hair until the doctors announced Jackie was recovering.

"Can't you stay?"

A part of him wishes he could, but he knows it's impossible. He needs to see somewhere else, escape his parents, seize the chance for a job in London while it's still there. "I can't."

She walks away. He leaves the next day, away from the small town they call home to the big city. It feels like a metamorphosis, a shedding of the past and all that he had for a future he wants.

It feels empty without her.

X-X-X

First thing he does is start his new job as a journalist. The position involves fetching coffee half the time and making copies for the other half. A small portion of his time is devoted to writing his own articles. Steadily that time grows as he proves himself capable.

Most of his time not at work is spent wandering the city. He gets lost on the Tube, taking one train when he should've taken another and ending up on the opposite end of the city. He visits famous places, Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, the Tower, and tells tourists about the landmarks. He visits the areas tourists avoid, lonely streets and small markets and crowded pubs, and chats with strangers to learn everything. He eats noodles and pizza and Chinese. He avoids chips like the plague.

When he returns to his flat, he comes to a barren room. Only the essentials have been unpacked – toothbrush, bedding, shaving kit, clothes. Everything else stays packed away in boxes. He wonders what he's waiting for and then runs away from the thought.

A year later, when he's been promoted and his life has settled into something remarkably like routine, he unpacks the rest. He finds an old book in the bottom of a box he vaguely remembers throwing stuff in. It reads _The Places I Will Go_, with the I crossed out and replaced with a We. He sits on the floor, flipping through the pages, drinking in faded pictures and spidery writing and blank spaces for dreams. At the end, there's a star chart with ten stars connected by lines and a picture of the two of them in a photo booth. They're laughing, arms around one another. He stares at it for a long time, running his thumb along her cheekbone.

In the end, he catches the first train back. The city fades into suburbs, into lonely fields and cobblestone homes, into the familiar surroundings of his childhood. He hops off and stands at the station for a while. He has no idea what to say. All he brought with him was the book, his wallet, and a set of keys. One of them opens her flat.

He still doesn't know what to say.

He ends up wandering through the town. The owner of the candy store gives him a friendly wave, which he returns. He passes by the spot where, once, on a late evening, they snogged in the rain. He caught a cold after that and she teased him for ages. He walks by the chippy they ate at, the mile of cracked asphalt where she fell off her first bike, the abandoned parking lot where they launched bottle rockets. Everything is saturated in the memories of his youth and yet everything is new. The chippy has replaced its sign with something shiny and new, the street is covered over with a darker material, and the abandoned lot is a baseball field now.

Eventually he comes to their tree. The remnants of their old clubhouse are still up there; no one bothered to tear it down even after all these years. He laughs and then quiets when no one laughs with him.

He clambers up the tree and makes it to the branch right below the clubhouse. He shifts, the branch creaks. He stops moving and simply peers inside. There's the hole he made when the wood broke under him last time, splintery and dangerous. The metal roof is rusty orange and the wood moldy in places. Soggy papers lie in piles amongst leaf litter. A squirrel peeks out at him, chatters, annoyed by his presence. He gives it a toothy grin and it scurries away.

His eyes are drawn to two words, just two words. Bad Wolf. And right next to that – the Doctor. Where did those two kids go? Two kids with the whole of the world at their fingertips, stars in their head, hands never far from the other. The Doctor and Bad Wolf.

And now it's been a year since he last saw her, spoke to her. He's going to fix it. He's going to fix it and take her away to somewhere exotic or else, if she doesn't want to leave, he'll stay. Whatever it takes, he'll fix it.

He almost expects her to appear and ask him what he's doing up there and doesn't he remember how he broke his ankle last time. She'd ask with a tongue-touched smile, love on her face. Then she'd wonder what it's like, whether there are any reminders of their past up there, and he'd tell her about Bad Wolf and soggy drawings and faded paint and dreams that can still come true until she came up to see for herself.

She doesn't show and eventually he climbs down.

X-X-X

He finds her in the cemetery. He's walking by, hands shoved in pockets, and he just happens to catch sight of blonde hair blowing in the wind. He pauses and squints through the gate. It's her. No doubt about it.

He runs through, only slowing when he's a few meters away. She doesn't turn. His eyes drop to the gravestones.

Pete Tyler is a familiar name on the stone. She came here often to talk to the father she never really knew when things were bad and when things were good. Sometimes he came with her, to hold her hand. Once they brought their book and told him about their future. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Jacqueline Andrea Suzette Tyler is a new engraving.

He reaches for her hand; she takes it as if he hasn't been gone for months.

"I'm sorry."

It's inadequate, but it breaks the reverent silence. She twists into his embrace and buries a teary face in his chest. They stand for what seems like a long time, his arms around her, her body shaking with sobs.

He stares at the date. Six months ago. Her mum died six months ago and she's been alone since then. He feels rotten for not being there for her, knows that he had no way of knowing and that it's not his fault she was alone.

It doesn't make him feel any better.

He presses a kiss to her hair and continues to hold her as the sun goes down.

"You didn't tell me. I would've come back." He says later when they're back at her flat. Every surface is taken up by something – take-out containers, papers, clothes. She's never let it get this messy before, but it looks like she's given up on life.

She breezes past him on her way to the bathroom. "I didn't know your number."

He stands amongst the rummage of her life, still holding the book. His hands caress the beaten leather cover, tracing the words over and over. _The Places We Will Go_. If only they could be at one of those places instead of here. Here, he doesn't know what to do. She makes his decision for him when she pokes her head out.

"Aren't you coming?"

X-X-X

That night, despite their prior intimacy in her shower, she shuts the bedroom door in his face. He stands there for a while, thinking that she'll invite him in like she did the shower. She doesn't and eventually he drags himself to the sofa where he clears a space to sleep.

The next night, after a whole day of being ignored except for a few words and a quick shag, this time against a wall, urgent and needy, he takes their book and knocks on her door. There's no invitation, but he can't go on like this. He pushes it open and steps into her room. She's huddled under her blanket, still body turned away.

"Rose."

"What do you want?" Her voice is hoarse. His heart breaks all over again.

"To help."

"You can't."

He walks over and perches on the edge of her bed. "I can fix anything. I'm the Doctor, remember?"

A laugh – strangled and hurt, like broken glass – bubbles forth from her. "You can't fix everything, _Doctor_."

"I can try."

When she doesn't reply, he opens the book. His fingers run over the pictures, but he's looking at her, not them. "I was in London. It's a beautiful city. I saw all those things from our book – Buckingham Palace, the Tower, the British Museum with the Rosetta Stone. I rode on double-decker buses and cabs and the Tube. All brilliant. But I was lonely… I missed you."

"Not enough."

He flinches. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry. I should've been here for you, but I wasn't –"

"Just go."

"I didn't fill anything in. In the book. It's still blank as ever." He sets it down on her nightstand. "I never want to leave you again, Rose."

"Please, just go."

He stands up and goes to the door even if everything in him screams to stay. But he has to take things slow if he wants them to get better. At her door, he lingers to admit, "I love you." She makes no sign that she heard and he leaves.

The next evening, at the end of her shift, he meets her there. They pick up Chinese and then begin the walk home. It's silent, but not in the comfortable way they once had. This is the silence where familiarity goes to die, the silence that cleaves people in two.

"They're still up there." He nods up at the sky.

"What?"

He takes her hand and traces the constellation. "Those two best friends. They found the stars."

She stares at the sky for several long minutes. He shuffles his feet and stares at her. Eventually her eyes fall to his. "Are you sure they didn't lose them?"

"Only thing I'm more sure of is our names."

He can't tell if she believes him or not, but she holds his hand for the rest of the walk home and he counts it a small victory.

X-X-X

Month pass.

He works at the bookstore and the chippy for some time. He writes articles for the local newspaper. He fixes appliances and roofs for people. He puts all the money he doesn't use into an account and waits for a better day.

He keeps track of their new firsts as well. The first time she really kisses him. The first time they go out for chips together. The first time they watch a movie and she falls asleep on his shoulder. The first time she lets him stay in bed. The first time they go out to watch the stars. The first time it feels like love and happiness again.

They go on picnics often. Different places all over town though their favorite is a grassy hill. They still use their old blanket even as it gets holes and becomes threadbare.

One day he packs plane tickets in their picnic basket. She spots one and her entire face pales. "You're leaving me?"

He shakes his head, hair flopping around. "No!" He stops the head-shaking to peer at her and repeats the word. "No. Never again. There are two. See."

She looks again and pulls them out. "New York City."

"Great place. Well, that I've heard, can't really say until I've actually gone, can I? But they have the Statue of Liberty and an amazing planetarium and street food. We can try American chips – fries, they call them, fries, isn't that daft? And there's Times Square and Central Park and a bunch of other places. Of course there are less touristy places that are still interesting, more interesting maybe. And it's a good place to start a trip through America. You get a brilliant introduction to the country with New York and then rent a car to drive through the rest. Big country, America, lots to see and do. We can do it all together. If you want." She still hasn't said anything and he's getting jittery, his gesticulations increasing as her silence continues. "Or we can stay here. Here is -"

Her lips smash into his, cutting off the rest of his babble. They kiss for a while, languorous and sensuous with lots of tongue, and then he draws back.

"That a yes?"

She rolls her eyes. "Course that's a yes."

The two of them together, traveling the world, just as it should be.


	9. Heart of the Labyrinth

**A/N:** I joined a prompt community on Tumblr (permissiontofollowup). This week's prompt was 'a labyrinth'. Originally I was going to write a story with the labyrinth as a metaphor, but then I got this idea and it all slotted into place from there.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **They speak of a monster in the Labyrinth. They call it Bad Wolf. They send rebels down to it. No one ever returns. It's an obvious conclusion to draw that he's next on the menu. AU.

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

* * *

**Heart of the Labyrinth**

The Labyrinth is where they throw rebels, the ones too dangerous to condemn to prison, the ones who are deemed irredeemable. Which, he supposes with a grim smile, he is. He has no intention of ever recanting his views, so now he must face the beast.

Bad Wolf.

No one knows what it is. All they know is that once you go in, you never come out again. It's simple to draw a conclusion from there.

He's been in here for hours wandering the dank tunnels, but he hasn't come across anything. Until now.

Golden light shines from around the corner. A shiver runs down the Doctor's spine. He nearly turns tail and runs, but curiosity beats that impulse. He may as well see the infamous Bad Wolf before attempting escape. Or getting eaten, whichever it comes down to.

He rounds the corner and freezes. It's not a wolf, not a hideous monster of any kind. It's a woman. A familiar one he never thought he would see again.

"Rose?"

It's impossible. She's dead, has been for three years, ever since she got caught investigating the government. He must be hallucinating, a final image of his beloved before the wolf rips his throat out. Except… well, there was never a body.

Rose smiles, catching her tongue between her teeth. "Doctor."

His heart skips a beat and then he's throwing all caution to the wind to run to her – illusion or not, glowing or not, it's _her_ and there is no one he wants more in this universe. He pulls her into a tight embrace, lifting her to swing through the air. When he sets her back down again, they're both laughing and crying and then her lips are on his. They're warm, warmer than they should be, but he doesn't think much on it because it's _Rose _and she's _here _with him, kissing him, in the last place he ever expected to see her. He should be dying right now and instead he's kissing Rose Tyler and it's brilliant.

When they finally pull away, the Doctor stares at her. She's leaner than before, more angled, hardened. But the most dramatic difference is in her eyes, in the golden light that lurks there, the light that radiated off her when he first rounded the corner but has receded some since.

He manages to choke out some words. "What are you doing here?"

"They threw me in here when they caught me snooping. Thought the monster would take care of me."

He nods – it's the same song and dance as ever. Back then, the monster wasn't Bad Wolf. It was nameless until a few months later when writing began to appear at the Labyrinth's entrance and outer tunnels. Bad Wolf, the letters proclaimed and rumors spread of an intelligent beast and desperate attempts at escape.

"And you survived? Bad Wolf and everything else?"

She grins, a feral smile. "Doctor, I _am _Bad Wolf."

"That's – " He shakes his head. "You can't be. Bad Wolf's…"

…the monster the government uses to cow its citizens into subservience, the destroyer of rebels, the beast lurking in the bowels of the Labyrinth.

He doesn't say any of that.

"There was… somethin' here before. I never really learned what it was, but it was lonely. Lonely an' dying an' not at all like the monster from the stories. I reached out to it and it sorta…" She gestures to the air, swirling golden dust between them. "burst, I suppose, into this energy. I took it an' here I am. Bad Wolf."

He feels weak and shaky – if it weren't for Rose's arms around him, he expects he would've fallen to the floor by now. Rose Tyler, his Rose, is Bad Wolf? Killing all who entered? He can't believe it, but it's been three years and people change. He hopes she hasn't; he's almost scared to ask but he needs to. "The others who came in here?"

Her eyes light up. "They're still here." His heart nearly jumps up his throat. "C'mon, I'll show you." She pulls on his hand and he follows along.

"All of 'em?"

Rose nods. "They've been hidin' in the tunnels. Gathering forces, making plans, surviving. Bad Wolf keeps any guards away." She grins the same feral smile from before and he finds himself smiling along. All his friends who weren't thrown in the Labyrinth are still alive; most importantly, Rose is still alive and he is here with her. "How would you like to topple a regime, Doctor?"

"It would be my pleasure, Rose Tyler."


	10. Better Than Flying

**A/N:** As I was drifting off to bed last night, I came up with this little idea. It wouldn't leave me and although I should be working on my long Doctor/Rose fic (coming soon hopefully), I ended up writing this instead. Just a silly little thing for fun. And what fun it was to write.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **Penguin AU. Yup. Nothing else to say.

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

* * *

**Better Than Flying**

The Doctor perched on a stone, head tilted back to stare at the blue sky. It was empty save for a few wheeling skuas in the distance. If only he could join them up there, see what the world looked like from above, feel the wind run through his feathers. His stubby flippers flapped up and down and he tried giving a little hop, but he didn't lift up so much as an inch.

"Whatcha doing out here?" He turned to see that another chick had wandered over. "'S dangerous so far from the group."

"You wandered off too."

Her eyes gleamed. "Yeah."

She waddled closer and looked up in the direction he'd been looking. Her eyes tracked the birds for a moment and then looked out, to the horizon where the dark sea waited. Without taking her eyes off the horizon, she said, "My name's Rose Tyler."

"I'm the Doctor."

They sat in silence for a few moments, her studying the sky and him her. She was smaller than him, but had the same feather coloration – dark grey on back, white below. Her beak was pale orange edged with black. She watched the sky with an intensity in her gaze that he imagined matched his own.

"You never answered my question." Rose turned to look at him.

"Ah. Right." He looked down at his peach-colored feet, shuffled them around. "I was thinking about flying. About me flying." He looked over at her, braced himself for the usual laughter, the usual speech about penguins not flying. It didn't come.

Instead she simply turned her head back to the sky. He waited a few more seconds and then she turned back, almost shy in her confession, "Sometimes I dream about flying. I'd love to."

He bobbed his head, excited words babbling forth from his beak. "I've been watching the other birds and what they have that we don't. Big wings, that's what they have. Lots of feathers sticking out. So I was thinking if I had better feathers and then enough momentum to launch myself into the air, I could fly. All I need is feathers and something to stick them to me. It could work, Rose."

"Building our own wings?"

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

"Absolutely mad, you are." She stuck her tongue out at him and then tilted her head in thought. "There are lots of feathers by the cliffs. Let's go."

He blinked at her. "You want to come?"

"Better with two, yeah?"

He agreed and the two set off towards the cliffs. As they walked, he chattered about his observations of other birds in flight, of their techniques, the way their wings moved at different points in flight to take advantage of wind currents. For her part, Rose pressed him with good questions (some that he didn't have the answer to but he tried anyway).

They eventually reached the cliffs and sure to Rose's word, feathers were scattered all around the base of the cliff. It was marvelous, far more than he would've expected to find in any one location. Building proper wings seemed much closer to reality now.

"We need the big ones, not the little, fluffy ones. Those don't do anything for flying." The Doctor instructed, kicking at a pile of fluff.

The shafts of some feathers were broken and others had lost their glossy sheen, but some were newly fallen and not in such bad condition. A pile of acceptable feathers rapidly began to grow between the two of them.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm." He didn't look up from the pile he was sifting through. It was a good pile; he'd already excavated three good feathers and wasn't even halfway through it.

"I think I know why there are so many feathers here."

"What?"

"Look up."

He tilted his head up to the top of the cliffs. Several skuas perched up there, preening and fluffing their feathers. A new one arrived, bearing a small shape in its beak.

"Oh."

"We should go." Rose added, waddling over to his side.

The Doctor cast a glance at the feathers they had gathered. They were so close, just a few more and they would have enough for two sets of small wings. He was sure of it.

"We just need a few more. Then we can go. Promise."

Rose looked up at the skua nests and then over at their collection and back again. Finally she sighed. "I'll keep watch. Jus' hurry."

He set to work at a faster rate than before, discarding broken or soft feathers and adding the good ones to their pile. He didn't want to endanger their lives, but they were so close and the other birds hadn't noticed them yet so what could a few more minutes hurt?

"We're good."

Rose picked up half the pile in her beak and he picked up the other half. They waddled off, back to the safety of their rookery. A cry rose up from behind them. His heart beat faster.

"Go," he mumbled from around his mouthful of feathers. She returned his fearful yet exhilarated stare and they set off at a faster pace. It didn't help.

A skua, big and brown, dove down. He saw Rose trip from the corner of his eye, the skua missing her by a few centimeters. It landed a little away from her and turned around, head bobbing. Another cry left its beak.

The skua stalked closer. Rose pushed herself off the ground, body trembling, feathers fluffing out in a meager attempt to look larger. She was still far too small.

"Rose!"

The Doctor spat out his feathers without a second thought and waddled towards her, just as the skua lunged. He got in the way, felt the skua's beak clamp down around his middle instead of hers. The skua tilted its head up, lifting him off the ground. His feet wriggled in the air as it spread its wings.

He'd finally get to fly. Not what he had envisioned, mind you, but he would see the world from above just before he died. He could've laughed if he wasn't terrified out of his feathers. At least she was okay. There was that. And flying, there was that too. It didn't seem like enough, the flying, not on its own anyway, but coupled with her safety... well, he supposed it was worth it.

The skua released him with an earsplitting shriek. He fell to the ground, dazed, and watched the bird flap off. Red dripped from its foot. _You're supposed to take me with you._ He thought, body shaking.

Rose's face appeared in his field of vision, blocking the sky from view. A drop of blood rolled off her beak and plopped on his face. He blinked.

"You okay?"

"Still alive, aren't I?" His body ached from where the skua's beak had pressed on him, but there didn't appear to be any blood.

She sighed in relief. "Can you walk?"

"Think so." The Doctor pushed himself off the ground. He swayed for a moment and then steadied. Rose pressed to his side and they started the way back to the rookery.

After a few minutes of quiet waddling, Rose said, "That was the bravest and dumbest thing I've seen anyone do."

"Yeah?" He puffed up his chest.

She bumped his side. "Oi, don't be so pleased. You almost died."

"Would've if it wasn't for you… Y'know, you could've left me, gotten to safety on your own while it was distracted."

"You could've too."

"Nah, I couldn't ditch you."

"An' I'm the same."

Silence fell over them, each penguin to their own thoughts. The Doctor would've loved a chance to fly, would've loved the chance to see the world from above, but this was better. Waddling with Rose, the skua might fly but it didn't have anything like this. No one like her, ready to jump into adventure with him even if it was mad, brave enough not to abandon a mate in the face of danger.

"You got that skua really good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." They both glanced at each other, giddiness and joy mirrored in one another's eyes. "It's definitely in competition with my move for bravest and dumbest thing ever."

"Bravest, sure, but not dumbest." Her tongue peeked out from her beak. "He couldn't do anything with a beakful of you."

"Suppose you're smarter then."

"Yep."

"You're not supposed to agree with me!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Sorry, course 'm not smarter than you. You're a genius, you are."

"Tell you what though, you're brilliant, Rose. And that's sincere, not like your little bit of sarcasm."

"Ta. An' you're not so bad yourself, Doctor."

The cries of other penguins filled the air as they neared the rookery. The Doctor didn't particularly want to part ways with Rose, but he could hear the voices of his parents calling him for feeding. They wouldn't be pleased that he'd wandered off yet again.

His stomach grumbled. Looked like he'd have to face them sooner than later if he wanted to have his fill. Still, he had to say something to her before getting food.

"We made a good team back there."

Rose paused. He stopped with her, shuffling his feet on the stony ground. She bobbed her head, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"We did, yeah."

He rubbed his beak against his shoulder and tried not to hope too much. Then, nerves steeled, he looked at her. "We should do it again. Well, not the cliffs and not the almost-getting-eaten bit, but the exploring. We could find some hills to go down. If you want."

"I'd like that."

She opened her beak to say more, but a loud call interrupted any words. "Rose Marion Tyler, where have you been?"

Rose dropped her head. "That'd be my mum."

"Right. See you later, good luck, an' all that."

Eyes wide – he had no intention of meeting her mum after Rose had almost gotten eaten (even if he had saved her) – the Doctor hurried off. He could hear Rose's mum begin a lecture about the dangers of young chicks wandering off from their parents when another cry caught his attention. His own mum calling for him.

Well, he'd have to face her eventually and since his stomach was rumbling (nothing like life-or-death situations to make you hungry), this was as good a time as any.


	11. Blitz Fire

**A/N:** Written for whoinwhoville on tumblr when I asked for AU prompts.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **WWII, London Blitz

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

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**Blitz Fire**

"No."

The word felt small and inadequate to describe what he was feeling right now. Sick to his stomach, the world iced over, like a shadow had draped over his heart, _as if nothing mattered anymore_, those might be a little closer to the truth.

The building before him was a shell of its former self, just piles of scorched bricks and splintered wood. Empty of what mattered.

And he never said – never would be able to now. If only she had been with him… or if he had been with her, if he hadn't refused to visit her mum the night before, if he hadn't decided work was more important because he was on the edge of something new and exciting and potentially groundbreaking. And now, now he was alone and she was –

He turned away from the ruin. Throat tight, eyes burning, he began to walk. His strides turned longer and longer until he was running through the city, feet pounding the ground. If he ran fast enough, he could turn back time or at least escape the ghosts.

He paid no attention to his surroundings, just let his feet move him around people, past buildings both standing and ruined, past broken lives soldiering on. His legs burned, but he kept on until the ache in his muscles was the only sensation, the only thing he could feel.

Sirens rang through the city. He blinked, halting his mad dash – he'd been going for longer than he'd meant to. Not that he'd had any specific plans in mind, just sweet escape.

He tilted his head to gaze at the dark sky. He could lie back on the pavement and watch the German planes overhead, he could watch the city burn around him, he could feel the heat and breathe in smoke and see what happened, see if chance would favor him or not. He could do it.

"Oi, what are you doing standin' around there for? Can't you hear the sirens?" His head swiveled in the voice's direction, the owner a ginger-haired woman. "Well, come on. We've got room for one more."

He hesitated (he didn't care not anymore, not really, not after – but he didn't want to _die_, probably, not now at least, and anyway she was standing there, waiting, and he really shouldn't have her worried) and then followed the woman into the shelter. Children made up most of the shelter's occupants, little ones with grubby faces all the way to teenagers who'd grown up too fast.

And in a corner, surrounded by a gaggle of children listening with rapt attention, it was _her_. He gasped. Impossible, couldn't be, she was dead, her home, it was just a smoking mess of wood and brick. He was finally cracking, had to be. She'd always called him mad and now he truly was.

She hadn't seen him yet, was still going on with her story, something about gas masks and children wanting mums, something fantastical and so utterly her, so utterly them. And the children – they were listening so closely like she was real, so maybe he wasn't mad, maybe this was her and he was being an idiot by not doing anything and –

"Rose." Her name caught in his throat, but she looked up from her audience and her face broke into a large grin. His face followed suit. It didn't matter that they were in a crowded shelter, he was pushing through the huddle, pushing his way to her because she was _alive _and nothing else mattered. She stood as well, side-stepped children, wrapped arms around his torso, gasped his name into his chest and then into his lips.

"I love you," he murmured into her mouth and when she pulled back to stare at him, eyes shining, he repeated it. He'd say it over and over again, every day for the rest of his life so long as she was there with him.


	12. Wishes

**A/N:** Written for an AU prompt from spookyknight over on Tumblr.

**Characters/Pairings:** Ten/Rose

**Summary: **Genie AU where the Doctor is a genie and the TARDIS is his lamp.

**Rating:** G

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of them.

* * *

**Wishes**

She gets three wishes.

Her first wish is to see the stars, up close and miles away from Earth, an adventure the likes she's never had before. He shows her the creation of galaxies, the settling of interstellar dust, the final glorious eruption of massive stars, the formation of planets and suns and black holes. And maybe it's a bit excessive for your average wish, but she didn't tell him to take her to _all _these places (just that she wanted to see the stars, just that, which is really quite open-ended – the exact places were his choices).

Her second wish, months later because she's terrified to give it voice, terrified to let him know this secret part of her even though he's probably heard the innermost desires of all sorts of people before and one more isn't likely to be groundbreaking, is for her father. Her mum cries when she sees him again; Rose stands back with the Doctor to allow the happy reunion. Eventually she caves and runs to her father's side, excited to meet the man she's never known.

And now it's time for her final wish.

She's held off on this one for other reasons, reasons she keeps close to her heart, and he's never pushed her on the point, never asked her to hurry along and make a decision. But it's finally time, she knows it in her bones, can feel that she's held off too long and that she has to make this wish so they can go their separate ways.

"So I get one more wish?"

"Yep."

"An' I can't wish for more wishes?"

"That, Rose Tyler, would be cheating." He teases with a waggle of his eyebrows.

She looks away from him. Whatever her final wish will be, she needs it to be good. Not just good, _fantastic_, _brilliant_, _something she won't regret no matter how much time passes_. Because after this wish, she'll return to ordinary life without him.

And he will… Well, she doesn't actually know what happens to him, not exactly. He doesn't talk much about himself, only occasionally drops references to other genies he's known before distracting her with some other topic. She looks back at the pinstriped man.

"What happens to you after?"

He shrugs. "I go back in the TARDIS. Wait around 'til someone else pops by to give her a good rub."

"You just stay in there?" She can't imagine this man, exuberant and bouncy and so full of energy, sitting still anywhere. And alone too – he's always talking, always rambling on about this or that. He thrives off audience.

"It's not so bad. Bigger on the – "

"Inside." She finishes for him with a grin. He smiles back. "Still, that's gotta get boring after a while."

The Doctor runs a hand through his hair and then beams. "Your final wish! What's it going to be? Do you want to see the past? Humanity's had some excellent moments in the past – could listen to Charles Dickens tell stories or maybe you'd rather see the coronation. That's a good one. Or the future, maybe? See where humanity lands itself in a few thousand years? Floating cars and vast cities and applegrass – oh applegrass is brilliant! Medicine too, you could live a long, happy life in the future."

He waits and when she doesn't respond, continues on, "Could go with something more present too. Riches beyond your wildest dreams? That's always a popular last one. People think money will fulfill the rest of their wishes. Keep 'em happy when I'm gone. They're wrong, of course, but I'm not one to argue. Or world peace? The other big one. I don't recommend it. Works for a while, but humanity always manages to bungle that one up. Entirely not my fault, just human nature at work. Only so much a genie can do."

He pauses for a dramatic moment, shoves his hands into his pockets, and grins, "So what'll it be?"

"I wish…" She stares at him, him with his sad and ancient eyes, not masked very well with his paper-thin smile. Those eyes that'll be locked up in the TARDIS until another person comes along and maybe that person won't be good; and even then, even then he would eventually just end up in the TARDIS on his own, no matter the person. It'll be his life for the rest of however long he'll live, a very long time if his current age is anything to go by.

"I wish you were free."

His mouth drops open. He stares at her like he can't quite believe what she's done, as if she's handed him the universe. She supposes she has; with his powers, he can go anywhere, see anytime, do anything. He'll go off and do it, of course he will. He has no need to be shackled to her anymore.

Her heart sinks. This will be the last time she sees him. She'll miss him and maybe he'll drop by sometime but probably not – he's not the sort for domestics of any kind.

But it's worth it, worth it to know that at least he won't be stuck in the TARDIS anymore. He won't have to be anyone's slave. He'd be free. Definitely worth it.

"Rose, I – I don't know what to…"

"Do?" She grins, tongue poking through her teeth, a stab at humor. "Whatever you want."

The Doctor's eyes fall to her mouth. He closes the distance between them, pulls her into his arms, tilts her head up. His lips press gently to hers, chaste and hesitant. She pushes closer, heart pounding in her chest because this is happening and he wants her. She swipes her tongue along his lips, he opens his lips and slides his tongue along hers, runs it through her mouth, along her teeth. Their mouths move together, lips and teeth and tongue, messy and wet and good. Eventually he pulls away enough to whisper,

"I want you."


End file.
